


Bosmer, Vampire, Champion, Dragonborn.

by NayNayAding



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi, Thieves Guild
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-18 18:27:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 76,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3579501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NayNayAding/pseuds/NayNayAding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was born a Bosmer. She was turned into a vampire. She gained the title of 'Champion', among others. And now, she learns that she was born to be far more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The titles I had gained meant little now, trussed up and tossed into the back of a wagon as I was. Even were I to say that I was the Champion of Cyrodiil, they would not believe it. Half the tales told of me were untrue, and the other half were greatly exaggerated. As well, they all thought the vaunted Champion was long dead, as I had preferred. Fifty years after Martin’s passing, Arquen had assisted me in faking my own death. I had then travelled Tamriel, but returned to Cyrodiil to fight the Thalmor. While I understood the Emperor’s plight I could not agree with what he was doing, and thus went to Hammerfell to assist the Redguards in their continued fight against the Thalmor. There had been nothing that I could do to help my brothers and sisters in the Brotherhood without exposing myself, and to my shame, I fled. I have heard Mother’s voice, now and again, and done what I could to carry out her will. It was, in fact, part of the reason that I had decided to travel to Skyrim. There were a number of contracts that needed to be carried out. It was while I was crossing the border that I had been discovered by Imperial troops. Even with my additional vampiric strength they overpowered me. I had resorted to feeding from animals while I crossed the Jerall Mountains and they had not been enough to properly sustain me. Thus weakened by hunger and daylight, I was captured. My wounds had been tended and I was then tossed into a wagon with three human men. Nords all, they appeared to be. Two wore armor and the third wore rags. The man in the finest armor was gagged as well as bound, not like the rest of us. There was another wagon of men and women wearing similar armor, all bound. The Imperials had taken my physical weaponry, but I was also a talented mage.

“Do you know where we are headed?” I asked the man across from me.

“We’re still in southern Skyrim. There’s only a handful of villages this far south. The closest Holds are Falkreath and Whiterun.” I shook my head and turned away from him, facing the gagged man beside me. The man gave me an odd look, which I returned, and then I ignored him. “You got caught trying to cross the border, right?” The man across from me was speaking again. “You and the horse-thief, here.”

“Damn you Stormcloaks.” The man in rags spat. “Skyrim was fine until you came along… Empire was nice and lazy.” I felt my ears twitch despite myself at the mention of Stormcloaks. “I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell by now.”

“At which point the horse would have fallen over dead.” I commented, not looking at either of them. The men were quiet for a time after this. A short time.

“What’s the matter with him, huh?” The second man spoke. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye to see that he was gesturing towards the gagged man.

“Watch your tongue!” The first man snapped. “You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!” I raised a brow and looked back at the gagged man. He wore heavy armor with large pauldrons, and a blue tabard draped beneath them across his chest. He had a scar across his right cheek, but it was partially hidden by the gag. He had shoulder-length blonde hair, with a braid running from each temple. His stormy grey eyes bore into my red ones.

“The very man I wished to meet.” I smirked, and he narrowed his eyes at me. “I have bled for the Empire for nearly as long as I have lived, but grew weary of it after the War. Should we live through this, I wish to fight for you.”

“You’re all crazy, every damn one of you!” The horse-thief spat.

“This is not the first time I have been made a prisoner. I do not think my final hours are upon me.” The two men conversed between themselves, and I ignored it in favor of plotting an escape. I could summon a Bound Dagger to cut my bonds, but that would do little. Were I to leap from the wagon I would merely be shot down. It might be little more than an inconvenience, if the archer was a poor shot, but there could be one or two that might be better.

“General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!” I could not recall why, but that name sounded familiar. I turned about on my seat to see that we were approaching a village.

“Good. Let’s get this over with.” The horse-thief began to pray and I turned my lip up at him. Men like him were good for little more than feeding.

“Look at him. General Tullius, the military _governor_.” The other man spoke. I followed his gaze and saw an older Imperial man sitting astride a horse, and as I saw him I knew why his name was familiar. I had fought with him during the War. I had not ‘joined’ the Legion, as it were. I had simply arrived, unannounced, and told someone to put me to work. I had been on numerous assignments with this man, once upon a time. His horse was surrounded by a handful of others, all bearing Altmer passengers in black Thalmor robes. “Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this.” I raised a brow, looking over at the man. “High elves. Not all you others.” He affirmed.

“Do you know where we are now?” I asked. He looked around.

“This… is Helgen. Falkreath Hold.” He informed me. “I used to be sweet on a girl from here. I wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in… you know, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.” The carts trundled through the village until we arrived at some sort of square.

“Get these prisoners out of the carts! Move it!”

“Why are we stopping?” The horse-thief squeaked.

“Why do you think? End of the line.” The other man replied. The horses stopped and a pair of Imperial soldiers moved to the end of the cart to ‘encourage’ us out. I scoffed and rolled my eyes, rising to my feet quickly.

“No! Wait! This is a mistake!” The horse-thief cried out.

“Face your death with some courage, thief.” The other man disparaged. Ulfric led the way out of the cart.

“You’ve got to tell them, we weren’t with you! This is a mistake!”

“Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time!” It was a woman who spoke, I saw, wearing officer’s armor.

“Empire loves their damned lists.” The first man scoffed, and I shot him a smirk.

“Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm.” Ulfric broke from the crowd, staring down the legionnaire who had called his name.

“It has been an honour, Jarl Ulfric.” The first man called out.

“Ralof of Riverwood.” This was the first man who had rode in the cart with me, and he calmly followed his Jarl.

“Lokir of Rorikstead.” The horse-thief took a step forth.

“I’m not a rebel! You can’t do this!” He took off running.

“Halt!” The woman shouted after him.

“You’re not gonna kill me!” He shouted back, almost desperately.

“Archers!” Two arrows thudded into his back, and he fell to the ground. “Anyone else feel like running?”

“Wait… you there, wood elf! Step forward!” After taking a quick glance around, I surmised that I was the only Bosmer there, so I advanced. “Who are you?”

“I am Lycoris.” I stated. He looked back down at his list.

“Captain, she’s not on the list.”

“Forget the list. She goes to the block.” She gestured towards said block.

“By your orders, Captain.” He turned back to face me. “I’m sorry. We’ll make sure your remains are returned to Valenwood.”

“My corpse would be no good once it traveled there. Simply burn what is left.” I stated, then followed the others. There might not even be anything to burn. I have been a vampire for the better part of two centuries – I know not what happens to the corpses of the older of my species.

“Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn’t use a power like the Voice to murder his King and usurp his throne.” Ulfric tried to speak, but the gag muffled him. “You started this war… plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace.” An odd sound reverberated through the village, almost like the cry of some beast.

“What was that?” One of the soldiers asked.

“It’s nothing. Carry on.” Tullius ordered, then walked away.

“Yes, General Tullius!” The Captain saluted before waving towards a priest. “Give them their last rites.”

“As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessing of the Eight Divines upon you –”

“For the love of Talos, shut up, and let’s get this over with.” One of the Stormcloaks interrupted her, walking towards the block.

“As you wish.” The priest sniffed at him.

“Come on! I haven’t got all morning.” He knelt down and laid his head upon the block. The headsman raised his axe and swung it down, splitting the man’s head from his shoulders in one smooth blow.

“I pity the man who goes last.” I murmured, shooting a glance at Ulfric. His stormy eyes met mine once more, and I felt that he knew – the Imperials would not grant him an early death. He would be forced to watch each and every one of his men and women die before they killed him.

“As fearless in death as he was in life.” Ralof commented.

“Next, the wood elf!” The Captain shouted, pointing at me. The same sound echoed through the village once more, only louder.

“There it is again… did you hear that?” The same soldier asked.

“I _said,_ next prisoner.” Someone nudged my arm and I pulled away from them. The man’s body was unceremoniously shoved aside as I walked forwards. As I knelt and rested my head on the block, I bit my lip to keep myself from licking the blood from it as I waited. My last moments would not shame me, I refused it. I closed my eyes.

“What in Oblivion is _that_?” Someone cried out, and my eyes snapped open. I must have missed what they had seen.

“Sentries! What do you see?” The Captain shouted.

“It’s in the clouds…” A great black creature flew through the sky, landing atop the tower behind the headsman. He stumbled and the axe fell from his grasp, bouncing off the block.

“Dragon!” I heard a woman shout. The creature did… something, and the sky turned dark and everyone was thrown from their feet. I was knocked away from the block and my head bounced off the paving stones.

“Come on, little elf, get to your feet.” Someone hauled me upright as I clutched my head and shot Restoration magick into it. As my vision returned I recognized Ralof standing before me. “Come on, we won’t have another chance! We have to run!”

“You need not tell me twice.” I replied, and followed him into another tower. The remained Stormcloaks were gathered there, untying one other’s bonds. I quickly summoned a Bound Dagger and cut away my own.

“Jarl Ulfric, what _is_ that thing? Could the legends be true?” One of them asked.

“ _Legends_ don’t burn down villages.” Ulfric replied. I was surprised at how pleasant his voice was. “We need to move, now!”

“Up through the tower, let’s go!” Ralof agreed. He and I led the way up the stairs. Just as we reached the first landing the wall exploded inwards, crushing the man waiting there. The… dragon spewed fire into the resulting hole, and I pushed Ralof against the wall beside me. The beast flew away and I walked approached the hole.

“Be wary of the stone. It may be hot in places for some time.” I cautioned. “I will leap into that building there. The rest of you may wish to take a running jump to follow.” I pointed to the nearest building that was burning the least amount before turning action into words. I launched myself towards the building and fell through the roof, grunting as I hit the floor. I tried to put weight on my foot and discovered that I had injured it. I quickly healed it before looking upwards. “One at a time!” I shouted. As each one landed near me I quickly looked them over to ensure that there were no injuries. Three of them sprained their ankles, as I had, but the others landed well. I sent them on their way afterwards. Ralof was almost last, and Ulfric was the very last to join me.

“Where are the others?” Ulfric demanded.

“They should not be too far ahead. They mentioned an old fort.” I informed him, and he nodded.

“It’s as good a place as any. Let’s get going.” We made our way through the village. The Legion was too occupied with the dragon to harass us, so we quickly made it to the old fort. The three of us entered an empty room.

“The others must have gone on ahead.” Ralof ventured.

“So it would seem.” I looked over myself. My armor would need to be repaired, if not outright replaced, and I had no idea where my physical weaponry was. I found myself longing for my bow.

“Do you have weapons?” Ulfric asked, and it was a moment before I realized he spoke to me.

“I have magick.” I replied.

“Magick doesn’t last forever. We’ll have to try and find you something – and see if there isn’t any better armor around here.”

“It will suffice, for now.” I answered. “We need to get out of here. Either the Legion will kill the dragon – which I do not expect – or it will grow tired of sporting with them. Or, better yet, it will simply kill them all.” I advanced through the room.

“Is it too much to hope that it might kill Tullius while it’s here?” Ulfric chuckled. The question seemed rhetoric, so I did not answer. I found an axe and a sword, and offered them to Ralof and Ulfric.

“I care not who takes which one. At the moment I am likely better armed than either of you, taking into account the Nordic distrust of magick.” Ulfric took the axe, and Ralof the sword. I summoned a Bound Bow and let the men lead the way. The first door we encountered was locked, and the second opened on a chain from the other side.

“They must have barred the doors behind them to keep the Legion from following.” Ulfric surmised.

“Come on, soldiers! Keep moving!” I recognized the Captain’s voice.

“Get away from the door. When they open it, I will throw a Fireball.” I readied the spell in my right hand, holding my incorporeal Bow in my left. The two men listened to me, and arranged themselves so that they stood on either side of me. They three Imperials saw us, and eagerly opened the door. Before it was half way open I launched my spell, throwing two to either side and lighting the third on fire. I raised my Bow and fired arrow after arrow before the men attacked. I timed my shots carefully, not wishing to harm either of them. The scent of blood in the air caused my vampiric teeth to descend, and I felt myself begin to salivate. Ulfric rummaged through the Captain’s pockets, locating a key. Said key unlocked the other door, and we were no longer trapped. “I will be along presently. I must answer a call of nature.” I told them, and once I was alone I dragged one of the bodies into the room they had entered in and swiftly drained it dry. My hunger sated, I used the water pouch my meal had been carrying to wash my face before following after Ulfric and Ralof.

* * *

 We caught up with the other Stormcloaks, and I healed any injuries they had taken. There were now eight of us, fighting through the underbelly of the old fort. When we exited the manmade structure, we encountered no more Imperials. Instead we fought against Frostbite Spiders and a bear.

“I have always disliked spiders.” I commented, but I scrounged through their nests for eggs. I simply cut the paws off the she-bear so that I could remove the claws at a later time. We exited the cave and we all looked towards the sky.

“There it is! Get down!” One of them shouted. We all dove for some form of cover, but the dragon either ignored us or did not see us, for it continued on its way.

“That is one less thing to fret over, for the time being.” I commented, rising to my feet.

“Now we just have to worry about the Legionnaires that it didn’t kill.” Ulfric ground out.

“The dragon has only just left. It will take some time before they are ready to pursue us.” I replied. I squared my shoulders and turned to face Ulfric. “I meant what I said in the wagon. I am willing to fight for you.”

“Why would you bleed for us? For Skyrim? You can’t have been here long.” Ulfric looked wary.

“Because this is about far more than the squabble for the crown. This is about far more than snubbing the Empire. This is about warring upon the Thalmor. If you succeed here, you will have allies in Hammerfell; that I promise. I will fight for you here… and beyond, against the Aldmeri Dominion.”

“What if I decided that after winning here that it was enough? That I didn’t need to fight against the Thalmor?” Ulfric countered.

“I do not see you simply sitting upon your hands once all is said and done, but if that were the case I would simply leave. I would find others willing to wage war upon them.”

“What did the Thalmor do to you that makes you want to fight them so badly?” He queried.

“They have deeply offended me, in more ways than only one.” I narrowed my eyes upwards at him. “Do you press for so many details from all of your followers, or merely the ones who are not human?”

“That is part of my reason, yes. You’re a wood elf, and it’s well known that there are more than a few of your kind within the Thalmor’s ranks.”

“If that is truly the case, then I understand your caution. If that is not the case then we must take care of it another time. We must depart this place.” I turned to walk away, but Ulfric placed a hand on my shoulder. I shook it off before turning to face him.

“I have one more question for you.” I gestured for him to continue. “If you are a mage, then why didn’t you try to escape earlier? Did you know the dragon was coming?”

“And get myself shot full of arrows like the horse-thief for my troubles?” I barked out a laugh. “I think not. I would rather go to my death with my head held high than be shot in the back.”

“And the dragon?” He pressed.

“It was just as much a surprise to me as it was to you. I knew nothing of its arrival.”

“Very well. Come to Windhelm, and I’ll see you fight with us.” Ulfric nodded.

“Do you wish me to travel with you, or shall I meet you there at another time?”

“That depends on where we are.” Ulfric looked around, and one of his men stepped forward.

“My Jarl, we are very near to Riverwood, in Whiterun Hold.” He stated. I recognized him… Ralof, that was his name. “I have kin here. They may be able to provide a few things for us before we make our way to Windhelm.”

“I don’t want to take food from their mouths. I still have some coin with me. Is there an inn?” Ulfric turned to look at Ralof.

“Yes, and a small store as well. It’s better off than some villages.” Ralof remarked.

“Then we will stay at the inn. We cannot let these people come to harm because of us, so none of you may address me as ‘Jarl’ or ‘Ulfric’. I will be Trygve.” I smirked. “Is something funny, little elf?”

“My name is Lycoris.” I told him. “I would be appreciative were you to use it.”

“Is something funny, Lycoris?” He repeated.

“The name you chose. Do you know what it means?” I asked.

“It is an old Nordic name. A good one.” He stated.

“The meaning is ‘worthy of trust’.” I informed him as I walked away. “Let us hope that you live up to it.” I added quietly. Ulfric quickly gathered his men and we made our way down the road. Ralof decided to walk with me. I suspected that Ulfric may have set him to spy upon me, so I kept my pace swift.

“How does a tiny creature like you walk so quickly?” Ralof asked, panting.

“Many years’ experience. I traveled back and forth all across Cyrodiil at one time.”

“Were you a courier?” He asked, and I smiled slightly.

“One might call it that. I performed errands and delivered news, among other things.”

“Performed errands? I can’t see you doing such things.” Ralof remarked.

“Not as you might think. I was tasked with collecting specific items, typically from ruins. Ayleid crystals, old family armor…” I shrugged. “Such errands that involved danger. Not menial tasks.”

“So you’ve seen your share of fighting, then.” Ralof ventured.

“I have fought for many years. Not all of it on a battlefield, hearing war shouts and the cries of the injured. I fought in the Great War, and traveled to Hammerfell to help them fight the Thalmor. I have seen far more than simply my _share_ of fighting.” We walked in silence for a time. “I take it you grew up near here, yes? It is how you recognized the area?”

“Aye. My parents are no longer with us, but my sister and her family run the mill here.” He shuddered. “I don’t know how she can stand it.”

“Stand what, pray tell?” I asked. He raised a hand to point at the mountain across the river I could see glistening in the sunlight.

“You see that ruin up there? Bleak Falls Barrow. Filled with draugr and Talos only knows what else.”

“I have never heard of these… draugr. What are they?” I asked as I studied the mountain.

“No one really knows, beyond that they’re supposed to be dead and that they’re dangerous. They haunt all the old Nordic crypts around Skyrim, from what I’ve heard.”

“I see.” Looked over my shoulder to where Ulfric and the others were following us. They were a fair distance behind us, so I slowed my pace somewhat. As we traveled along the road we grew closer to the riverbed. I paid close attention to the nearby plants and scooped up the alchemical flowers I saw, thrilled to see so many of them.

“We’re closer than I thought we were. We’re already at the Standing Stones.” Ralof commented, gesturing towards a trio of oddly marked stones just off the road.

“Standing Stones? Similar to Doom Stones?” I queried, stepping forward to investigate the stones.

“I don’t know what those are, so I wouldn’t be able to tell you.” Ralof confessed.

“What do they do?”

“They grant a blessing, like the ones gained from shrines. You can only have the blessing of one Stone at a time, and they don’t end over periods of time like the shrine blessings do. Go and see for yourself.” He gestured towards them once more and I carefully approached them. The three stones were all taller than I was, and they had a perfectly circular gap near the top. They each had a different constellation – the Warrior, the Mage, and the Thief. I approached the Thief stone and laid my hand upon it.

 _“Today the Thief shall guide your steps on the road to destiny.”_ Those were his words, when I had told him which sign I had been born beneath.

“The Thief, eh?” Ralof commented. “It’s never too late to take charge of your own fate, you know.”

“This is the sign under which I was born. These stars shall always guide me.” The stone lit up, mimicking the stars in the sky momentarily before fading. “You need not be a thief to make use of their skills. What use is it to charge recklessly into battle, perhaps gaining injury, when one could sneak in and destroy their enemies without notice?”

“I suppose that makes sense.” He replied.

“Everyone has their own way of going about their business. They need not all be the same, and simply because it is different does not make it wrong.” Ralof chose not to answer, taking a drink from his water pouch while we waited for the others to join us. Ulfric glanced at me, and the Stone nearest to me, and he narrowed his eyes. He did not seem too pleased with me.

“We should carry on.” Was all he said, which rather surprised me. I led the way down the road once more, calling my Bound Bow into existence. Bandits tended to run rampant in areas such as the one we were in, and I did not intend to be caught unawares. I need not have worried about the bandits, however, as we saw none. We saw only a triad of wolves which attacked once they saw us. I quickly fired arrows at them, and we were able to continue on our way.

“You’re a good shot.” Ralof remarked.

“I am a Bosmer. We have far better sight than other races. As well, I have been training with a bow since childhood.” Nearly for as long as I had been walking, in all honesty. We came upon the village shortly after encountering the wolves. I was surprised to see that there were no guards, and stated as much to Ralof.

“Riverwood is a bit out of the way for regular patrols. Hopefully that will change in the future, with all this dragon nonsense.”

“I quite agree. Any troop of bandits could come down upon the village as it currently stands.” I cared little for most people, true enough, but there could be any number of children in a village of this size. Children deserved to be protected. Ralof guided us to the inn before looking for his sister. Ulfric procured the three rooms for the night. The seven of us – Ralof would be sharing lodging with his sister – the rest of us would need to share. At first none of the men would share with Ulfric, but he quietly stressed the need to ensure that he seemed the same as the rest of us.

“We should also have some sort of watch set up.” Ulfric suggested. “This is one of the closest villages to Helgen, and it will also be the first place any Legionnaires look for us.”

“I will take midwatch.” I stated, brooking no arguments. It was unlikely that I would sleep through the night as it were, and I also knew that it was the most disliked of all watch shifts.

“They will all be taken in pairs. I want four watch shifts set up, and I will be on one of them.” I nodded my agreement, as did the others. Ralof and his partner would be on first watch, so as to not overly disturb his family. Ulfric and I were set to the third watch – by no accident, I suspected. He likely wished to continue his interrogation of me. I visited the general store to purchase a set of clothes to wear while repairing my armor and happened upon an argument.

“Well _one_ of us has to do something!” A young woman spoke. From her accent, I surmised that she was an Imperial.

“I said _no_! No theatrics, and no thief chasing!” The man countered. He was most likely either her husband or a close relation to the young woman. It was then that they noticed my presence. “I’m sorry you had to see that. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Yes. I need to purchase a second set of clothes so that I can repair my armor, as well as a travel bag.” I looked at the young woman, who huffed as she stirred a pot hanging over the fire. “Might I inquire as to what your argument was about?”

“We had a bit of a… break-in a while back. We still have other things to sell, however. The thieves were only after one thing – an ornament, in solid gold, in the shape of a dragon’s claw. My sister thinks we should go after them, but I think not.”

“I may be able to go in your – or her – stead. Do you know where they are laired?” I asked.

“I would be grateful if you were able to return it. It’s a family heirloom, you know. We were upstairs when the break-in happened, so we heard the whole conversation. They went to Bleak Falls Barrow. Divines only know what they went to _that_ place for.” He shuddered. “I have some extra coin coming in with my next shipment. It’s yours if you bring that claw back.”

“We have an accord, then.” He offered his hand and I shook it firmly. “I will need to repair my armor swiftly, then.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry. All the clothes we have are in the chest over there. Go ahead, look through it.” He gestured towards a chest on my right. The soldiers had taken my travel bag with my large coin purse, but they had not found the spare coin that I kept within a pouch inside my armor, so I was not entirely destitute. If all else failed, I could simply send a courier to Cyrodiil and have coin delivered to me. It would not be the first time that I had done so. However, with the border apparently closed for the nonce, any courier would likely be turned away.

“So _this_ is your plan, Lucan?” The young woman demanded. “Hiring someone to do our work for us?”

“You’ve spent too much time hanging around all these Nords, Camilla. This keeps the both of us safe, and this woman looks like she knows how to take care of herself.” I found a likely looking tunic and a pair of trousers and showed them to Lucan. “Here’s your bag. Five septims, please.” I placed the coins on the counter.

“Wait! Don’t you need directions?” Camilla asked as I opened the door.

“One of the men I traveled here with pointed out the ruins. I shall find my way.” I replied, shutting the door behind me. I walked back to the inn and inquired after which room I would be sleeping in.

“You will have that room.” Ulfric pointed towards the northeast room, to the barman’s left. “The men insisted that it be yours alone.”

“How gallant.” I deadpanned. I changed and left the inn, my armor in hand. We had passed a smithy on our way into town, and it was there that I paid my next visit.

“Is there something you need?” The smith queried.

“I would ask that I be allowed the use of your equipment. I need to make repairs to my armor, if not craft a new set.” I showed him my armor. “I will also look over any weaponry that you have.”

“You made this yourself?” He asked, raising his brows.

“I prefer armor made by my own hand.” I admitted. “I have yet to find a set of armor crafted by another that meets my standards.”

“If this is the quality you make, then be my guest.” He waved expansively towards the forge.

“I have no materials, and may need to purchase from you.” I informed him.

“Just pick up whatever you need. You seem honest enough. You can pay me when it’s completed.”

“You are very trusting of a woman you just met.” I commented, moving toward the work bench.

“See that you live up to it, then.” I smiled to myself and set to work. I disliked the traditional ‘elven-style’ of armor, and thus had created mine own. It had the same shoulder, on one side, with the traditional neck guard, skirt and greaves in darker colour laid over a set of leathers. The left shoulder was uncovered, to allow for further draw on my bow, and I wore wrist guards to my elbows on both hands. The neck guard hung over my back and shoulder blades to provide extra protection. The hood of my armor was armored as well, with the ‘teeth’ of the elven-style helmet protruding outwards. The greaves strapped over the leathers, allowing me to tread softly. Instead of the pink-green-gold colour pattern of the traditional style, my set was styled in dark colours to enable me to better slip into the shadows. I had owned a set of shrouded armor. Seeing as my own set was so distinctive, I had never worn it to complete a contract. It, however, had been in the travel bag the Legionnaires had confiscated. I would need to craft another set, but now was not the time. Some of the straps on my set of armor would need to be replaced, and there was a small hole where an arrow had pierced it. I sighed and set to work. It took less than two hours, and the sun was setting when I had finished. I paid the smith for what I had used, and also purchased a dagger before I headed back to the inn.

“Greetings, sister elf.” I heard a voice call out. I was surprised, to say the least, to encounter another Bosmer in Riverwood.

“To you as well, brother.” I replied, a smile upon my lips. He shifted into the natural Bosmeri tongue as we spoke.

 _“To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing kin in this place?”_ He queried.

 _“I traveled to this land on business, and am passing through here.”_ I told him truthfully.

 _“Is this your first time in_ Skyrim _?”_ We had no word for this province in our own tongue, so it was necessary to borrow the Common word for it.

 _“I did not expect it to be so… different.”_ I answered. _“Far colder thus far than I anticipated.”_ He laughed.

 _“That is very true.”_ He paused a moment, looking uncomfortable. _“I would ask a favour of you.”_

 _“Ask, and we shall see.”_ It was the traditional reply, and his expression brightened.

 _“Another man and I, we both vie for the affections of a young woman. I would ask that you deliver a letter to_ Camilla Valerius _, claiming that it is from him.”_ He handed me a letter, and I took it. I could read it later, if I wished.

_“This is the sister of the man who runs the store, yes?”_

_“That is correct. I am_ Faendal _, and the other man is called_ Sven _. If you would do this, I would be very grateful.”_ He bowed slightly, in the traditional manner.

 _“I will deliver the letter.”_ I promised. Not directly, perhaps, and not without further investigation. I returned the bow and he smiled broadly.

 _“I await the news eagerly.”_ He responded. He took two paces back before continuing on his way. I was gladdened to see that our traditions still lived outside of Valenwood. I returned to the inn and pondered over the letter.

 

_My Dearest Camilla,_

_I yearn to have you as my own,_

_Washing my linens,_

_And my fine blond hair,_

_To cook my dinner from my stove,_

_And tend to my house while I wander._

_Yours Truly,_

_Sven_

 

If it was meant to offend the young woman towards Sven, then it would likely accomplish its goal. I shook my head and approached the barman.

“I am searching for a man named Sven.” I stated. He pointed out a young man bearing a lute at the back of the inn and I nodded my thanks. I waited until he completed his current song before approaching him.

“Hello! Is there a song you’d like to request?” I shook my head.

“A Bosmer named Faendal approached me and asked that I deliver a letter to Camilla Valerius in your name.”

“Ha! As if he could actually succeed, wooing an honourable woman like her. You know what? Here. Give her this letter and tell her it’s from him instead.” He handed me a parchment and I sighed inwardly as I accepted it. These men had no imagination. I left the inn and read Sven’s letter in the light of the lantern outside the inn’s door.

 

_Dear Camilla,_

_I know I have called upon you at your house many times, and while we may be growing close, I need you to put any desires you have for me aside. I am a true-born son of Valenwood, and I could never befoul my bloodline by courting an Imperial. I hope we can remain true friends, provided you understand your people’s place in the Aldmeri Dominion, and respect me as such._

_Sincerely, Faendal._

My brows rose as I read the letter.

 _“Is this truly what these **barbarians** think of our people?”_ I murmured. _“These men are fools.”_ I stormed toward the store and knocked upon the door. Camilla was the one who answered it, clad in a shift.

“The store’s closed for the night.” She informed me.

“I have a pair of letters for you.” I replied. “This one was written by Faendal, and the other by Sven. They both wished to trick you into believing that theirs was written by the other.” Her brows furrowed as I handed her the letters.

“I… I can’t believe this! Why would they do this?” She asked, reading the letters.

“They both wish to lay claim to your heart. I think I need not tell you that neither of them are worth your consideration.”

“Thank you for bringing these to me. Hold on just a moment.” She retreated into the store, leaving it slightly ajar. I could hear her rummaging through something, and she returned with a necklace clutched in her hand.

“I need no reward for this.” I demurred, frowning.

“There must be something I can do for you.” She argued. I looked her up and down. She was a beautiful woman… I took a step closer to her, and she swallowed. My gaze dropped to her throat, where I could hear her pulse quicken.

“Come have a drink or two with me at the inn.” I lifted my eyes back to hers.

“Just a moment. I’ll change into something more appropriate.”

“You’ll not be needing it long.” I murmured as she walked away. It took but a few minutes for her to return, wearing a different dress than she had been that afternoon. This dress scooped low across her breasts, baring an expanse of honey-coloured skin. I stepped back from the door and she locked it behind her. We returned to the inn, and Sven’s face lit up as he saw her.

“Camilla! I didn’t expect to see you here tonight –”

“I’m not here to see _you._ ” She growled, not stopping. She chose the furthest table from him, where I joined her after ordering us drinks. Alcohol no longer affected me – I had no need to consume anything beyond blood, in truth, but I did not wish my conquest-to-be to drink alone. I sat astride the bench, facing her.

“Are you looking for someone?” She asked, taking her drink.

“I am admiring the view before me.” I replied, and she flushed prettily. I reached out a hand and danced my fingers along her shoulder and the base of her throat. She took a drink, but did not shake off my hand. “I have but a few hours. I will be off in the morn, and will not return swiftly.” I traced a finger along her pulse and felt it skitter. She cleared her throat before speaking.

“But you will, won’t you? For the claw, at least.”

“I will return if I am able.” I promised. She glanced over at me, and I darted out my tongue to wet my lip.

“Camilla, is something the matter?” Sven had approached us, and I internally rolled my eyes.

“Yes, something is the _matter_. Two people I thought I could trust tried to lie to me, and it’s only because of – I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Lycoris.” I supplied, and she nodded.

“Thank you. It’s only because of Lycoris that I even found out about it. I want nothing to do with you.”

“Camilla, please –”

“Did you mishear her?” I interrupted. “Be off with you.”

“If you had only delivered the letter –”

“I _did_ deliver the letter. The one from Faendal, as well. I merely told her the truth.” I shrugged, my fingers still drawing patterns along her neck and shoulder. “Now, the lady has asked that you leave. Remove yourself, lest I do it for you.” I looked around meaningfully at the rest of the inn, and he followed my gaze. The other patrons had heard our conversation, and looked none too impressed with the young bard.

“This isn’t over.” Sven spat before turning on his heels.

“I apologize for his behaviour.” I said, looking over Camilla.

“It’s not your fault.” She shook her head. “I will never understand men.” I smirked.

“I have little use for men.” I agreed. “But we shall not let him ruin our night, yes?” I dropped my hand from her throat and traced along her ribs, the backs of my fingers brushing the side of her breast. She drew in a gasp of air and my smile widened. “I cannot say as I blame them for trying. You are a beautiful creature.”

“Th-thank you.” She stammered, taking another drink.

“You should be cautious. I would not wish for these men to think I took advantage of you.” Her flush deepened. I leaned forward and pressed my lips against her throat, splaying my hand across her back.

“Are you seducing me?” She whispered.

“That depends. Is it working?” I responded, my mouth at her ear. I felt her shiver.

“You shouldn’t do this in public.” She shot back.

“Does this mean you wish to come to my room?” I closed my teeth around her ear lobe, pressing gently.

“I-I’ve never been with a woman. I don’t know…” She began, sounding nervous.

“If you would like for me to desist, then I shall. I’ll not force you.” I sat back as she shook her head.

“I only meant that I don’t know… what to do, or how it would work.” She confessed.

“Would you like to learn?”

“I think so.” She still seemed nervous.

“Allow me to test.” I leaned toward her once more and laid claim to her lips. Her lips were soft, and gentle. I waiting for her to open her mouth before deepening the kiss. I brushed my tongue against hers, and she responded, still cautious. She still had the taste of the mead I had bought on her tongue. I did not invade her mouth, as most men would. I did not wish to scare her off. Rather, I toyed with her. I defy any person who claims that a kiss cannot be seductive. I nibbled her lip and she drew in a breath. I placed my hand on her back once more and drew us closer together. Camilla raised a hand to cup the back of my head and I smiled against her mouth. She darted her tongue into my mouth. Pleased with her newfound courage, I allowed her control of our kiss. She drew us closer together still and I put pressure on her back with my nails. Not too hard, but enough to get her attention. I raised my other hand to cup her breast, but a sound from another table startled Camilla, causing her to draw back. She was breathing heavily, and I levelled a glare in the direction the sound had come from. It had been a drunken man – a local, from the look of him. He had knocked an empty glass from his table.

“I liked that.” Camilla admitted, quite breathily. A smile once more upon my lips, I turned to face her.

“As did I.” I tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Would you care for more?”

“Yes.” She no longer sounded nervous, I was pleased to hear. I rose from our table and offered her my hand. She accepted it, and I assisted her in rising to her feet. I led her to my room, locking the door behind me.

* * *

 What she lacked in experience, Camilla more than made up for in enthusiasm. We fucked thrice before she succumbed to sleep. Before I followed, I cast a quick spell to ensure her sleep was deep and sank my teeth into her throat. The dead man I had drunk from earlier had helped to slake my thirst, it had not entirely sated me. Nor would she, lest I drained her dry. I had no desire to, not when nearly half the backwater village had seen her leave with me. Once I withdrew I healed the mark, as well as the others I had left upon her during our bouts. I unlocked the door to allow whichever of Ulfric’s men entry without waking her before I laid down beside Camilla and slept. While it felt like only moments later that a hand shook me awake, I felt refreshed and ready. Feeding before slumber always enabled me to get a better day’s or night’s rest. I identified Ulfric as the man who woke me from the scent. The other men smelled of sweat and dirt, and while Ulfric did as well, there was also a hint of juniper berry under it all. Nearly before he closed the door I climbed out of the bed I shared with Camilla to dress. I cast another sleep spell upon her before I left. I did not wish for her to wake to an empty space beside her. Clad in my armor, I followed Ulfric out of the inn. We traveled a ways up the road toward Helgen before climbing a hill and sitting atop it.

“That girl you… bedded.” Ulfric began, breaking the silence.

“Camilla.” I supplied.

“Does this mean I have to watch out for you, as well? Chasing after merchant’s wives and daughters?”

“Or the merchants themselves, as well as their sons. I have no particular preference. However, I tend to avoid those with… entanglements. When a spouse returns to find another in their wedding bed events have a tendency to go sour.”

“‘Have a tendency’?” He turned to look at me.

“More than once the other spouse has fallen in with myself and their spouse.” I raised a brow at him before I recalled that he could not see it. “Do you press so into the carnal activities of your other soldiers? Or is this supposed to be an attempt to see if I am here only to spy upon you?” He did not answer. “If I were a spy, or sent here to kill you, do you not think that I would have been inserted into your company in a different manner than at the executioner’s block?”

“You have a point.” He admitted.

“Then might we not abandon the interrogation?”

“I do note that you didn’t specifically deny being an assassin.” Ulfric commented.

“Y’ffre’s bones! What do you wish for me to swear by before you feel you can place your trust with me? Any one of your men could be hired to slay you, yet simply because they are Nords you keep your faith in them!” I snapped. “That is not logical, nor is it practical. A man is not worthy of trust or mistrust simply because of the skin he wears.”

“I have difficulty trusting elves.”

“I fought in the Great War, against the Thalmor!”

“Anyone could claim that. You don’t even look old enough to have fought.” He countered.

“Do you know _nothing_ about elves? We have far longer lifespans than men and Betmer. I am far older than _you_ are. I was born in the Third Era, and lived through the Oblivion Crisis. I saw Martin Septim before he…” I trailed off, shaking my head. “The fact of the matter is that you are incorrect.”

“You saw Martin Septim.” He stated, disbelief colouring his voice.

“He was a priest of Auri-El, once. The God you call Akatosh. He served at the Chapel in Kvatch.”

“Everyone knows that.” He argued.

“If I told you something that you did not know, you would say that I invented it.” I countered. “If you are set on disbelieving me, there is naught I can say to change your mind.”

“If nothing else, it would explain your odd speech.” Ulfric admitted.

“Should I be grateful that you agreed to the obvious?” I growled. “If you do not trust me then I shall take my leave of you. I came to Skyrim for more than your war.”

“Such as?” He queried.

“Business that is not yours. Personal, _private_ business.” He was silent for a time.

“You are right about the spy and assassin. If you follow our laws, I see no reason to turn you away.” Ulfric finally conceded.

“I am ever so _grateful_ that you _condescended_ to allowing me to fight for you.” I snarked. “I do well in positions of command, particularly over archers, reconnaissance forces or saboteurs; but I am best on my own or in as small a group as possible. I do _not_ do well when I am put under the authority of others, particularly if I hold no respect for them. I will not follow foolish or suicidal orders, and will usurp command if I find it necessary. I prefer archery, but can hold my own in melee combat. I know nearly every spell in every school of magick there is to know. In Destruction I focused primarily on the fire and lightning branches, and I know a handful of ice spells. That is my combative and military self, to be succinct.”

“I don’t know if I should put you with scouts or keep you with the healers.” Ulfric told me.

“I would prefer to be beyond the front line, as I believe I mentioned. I am an accomplished spy, if you have need of such, and may be able to eliminate certain people before they raise issue.”

“So you are an assassin.” He surmised.

“I have previous experience in the trade. If you wish, I could look over your guard circuit to ensure that an assassin cannot gain secret entrance.”

“Make sure that it stays previous.” He ordered.

“I cannot promise such. If I see an immediate threat, I will take motions to eliminate it.” Or if I received further orders from the Night Mother, but he had no need of that knowledge. “I will need time to complete my own business, as well. I would not wish to have to scurry off to complete it.”

“You will be given time. And you may travel with us as far as you need to.” Ulfric offered, and I looked at him askance.

“That would be… well. It has been some time since I traveled with more than one or two others.”

“It has been some time since any of those louts have travelled with a lady.” He commented, and I barked a laugh.

“A lady! Not I. You must be speaking of another.” I folded my legs and drew the dagger I’d purchased from the smith and tossed it into the air. I caught it and tossed it once more. Again and again, while Ulfric and I spoke inanities to one another. When our watch was completed, we headed back into the village. One of the men for the final watch was in his room, while the other was in the third. I woke the man in the third room and then returned to the one I shared with Camilla. I cut off the sleep spell before undressing, and she woke as I climbed back into the bed.

“Is it morning?” She mumbled, drawing me close. “You’re cold.”

“It is not yet dawn. I just returned from out of doors. You need not wake just yet.”

“My brother will be getting up soon, and wondering where I am.” She yawned and sat up. “Thank you for last night. That was… amazing.”

“I am pleased that you enjoyed yourself.” I smirked in the darkness.

“You’re leaving today?” She asked.

“Yes. I have business I must attend to, as well as the errand given me by your brother.”

“When will you be back?” I could see her, dark as it was, and she had turned to face me.

“I cannot tell you, for I do not know.”

“Well then,” she huffed, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt my brother to worry a little bit…” She cupped my cheeks and pressed her lips to mine.

“You do know that I can grant you no more than this, yes?” I asked when she pulled back. “Do not set your heart on me. You will only be hurt.”

“Faendal told me once about elven lifespans.” She replied. “I do understand. But that doesn’t mean that we can’t have fun while you’re here.” She raised herself up so that she was over me on all fours.

“If ‘fun’ is all that you desire, that is something I may grant you.”

* * *

 I knew the moment the sun rose. Vampirism made the knowledge instinctual. I brought Camilla to climax once more before climbing out of bed again. I dressed, as did she.

“Wait.” She put her hand in the crook of my arm, and I stopped. “I… I want you to mark me. I want Sven and Faendal to _know_ they have no chance.”

“I do not wish for our liaison to cause trouble for you.” I demurred, shaking my head. “What would your brother think?”

“The way the men in this town gossip, I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew already.” Camilla scoffed. “I don’t care what he thinks.”

“If you are certain…” She leaned down, granting me better access to her throat. “This may hurt.” I cautioned her. I put my arms round her shoulders and brought her lower still before bringing my mouth to her throat. I fought against the instinct for my vampiric teeth to descend, and lost. They did not fully extend as I suckled against her pulse, yet I heard her gasp as my teeth grazed against her skin, but thankfully did not break it. Her hand slithered downwards and squeezed my breast tightly. I moved one arm from her shoulders and hiked up her dress so I could place my leg between her thighs.

“Lycoris…” She moaned, rubbing herself on my thigh. She squeezed my breast harder. I was glad that I had not yet put on my full armor as I pressed her against the wall to free my hands. I removed my mouth from her throat and swiftly loosened the laces that held her dress closed, freeing her breasts. I drew one of her dark nipples into my mouth, pinching and tugging at the other. I watched her face as she rode my thigh, her caramel eyes half-open. I lightly bit at her nipple and she let out a small cry. I moved my mouth to the other one and drew my dagger with my now-free hand, cutting away her smalls to gain access to her clit. I tossed the weapon aside and focused a small amount of lightning magick, releasing it as I pressed my thumb to her. Camilla nearly shrieked as she threw her head back, as she had every other time I had used that trick. I left another love bite, this one upon her breast, before looking up at her.

“Look at me.” I demanded, and she lowered her lidded gaze to mine. “I want you looking at me when you finish. I want to see the look in your eyes when you lose complete control.”

“Lycoris – I –” Her breath came faster, and a deep flush spread across her cheeks as I rubbed her clit. As she came she gave a sharp cry and stiffened before relaxing into my arms. I chuckled as I rearranged her dress as best I could. “What about you?” She asked, and I pressed my lips to hers before I answered.

“I am, like as not, late. As much as I wish to tear off your dress and drag you back to bed, I cannot.” She laced herself back into her dress as I finished putting my armor on. Once we were both dressed we left the room.

“The other men said that they were going to wait on the Whiterun road for you.” The blond innkeeper informed me, glaring at us in what I assumed was a disapproving fashion. I nodded my thanks and escorted Camilla to her brother’s store.

“I will see you again, Camilla.” I promised. She gave me one final kiss before I headed up the north road.


	2. Chapter 2

There were no comments on my choice of bed partner the night before, which I was both surprised about and grateful for. Camilla was a sweet girl and did not deserve to have these men disparage her. We made good time along the road north, and bore east just south of Whiterun. Eight armed travelers drew enough attention as it were, and there was no need to purposely draw more. No bandits were brave enough to trouble us, and we encountered a handful of wolves as well as a troll and a bear. It was rather an uneventful journey, all in all. When we reached Windhelm, Ulfric and his men went to the Palace of the Kings, and I went about my own business. My first destination was the marketplace, to procure a map of the province. The one I had originally purchased had been in the bag confiscated by the Legionnaires. After asking around, I went to Sadri’s Used Wares to procure a black robe and hood to make my Brotherhood calls in. From the name, I expected a Dunmer, and I was not disappointed.

“Welcome, welcome! It’s always good to see a new face. Absolutely nothing in here is stolen, not a thing! Feel free to purchase anything you like.”

“For one so insistent that nothing here is stolen, Sera Sadri, you seem rather nervous.” I commented.

“Of course nothing in here is stolen! Only a careless, shameful, idiotic fetcher would do something as _stupid_ as buy pilfered goods.” I raised a brow and he groaned, putting his elbows on the counter and his face in his hands. “Oh, by Azura, I’ve made a terrible mistake! I bought a gold ring, and Viola Giordano has been missing a ring that looks just like it!” I smirked to myself.

“I may be able to assist you.” I offered.

“It’s not that easy.” He argued, but he raised his head out of his hands. “She’d go to the Jarl if she knew I was even remotely involved.”

“Then I need only sneak into her home, and place it somewhere inside.” I shrugged.

“You’re serious? You’d do that for me?” He looked shocked, his eyes wide and his mouth open. “I would make it worth your while.”

“Give me the ring. Your name shall not pass my lips, I swear it.” I held out a hand, and he dropped the ring into it. “While I am out, I would like you to find a black robe and hood. I would be most grateful.”

“Of course. Absolutely.” He nodded, smiling.

“Where is her home?” I asked, and he gave me directions. “I should not be long.” I informed him, then slipped outside. I tugged my hood further forward to help block the wind before heading to the western side of the city. Sadri’s directions were accurate, and I swiftly found Viola’s home. I waited for the guard to complete his pass of the home before I crouched into the shadows and snuck up to her door. I was rather impressed with the quality of her lock, but it was no match for my nigh-infinite patience. Once I was inside, I looked around for a place to hide the ring. There was a cabinet off to my left, but once I ventured further I saw a dresser immediately to my right. I opened the top drawer and dropped the ring inside. I flicked the switch that would lock the door from the inside, then stepped out of the house. All together, I had only taken three-quarters of an hour. I was much faster returning to Sadri’s store.

“Have you taken care of that… little problem?” He asked, almost as soon as I was through the door.

“Yes. It is taken care of.” He heaved a sigh.

“Thank you, thank you! Azura’s prophecy always guide you to fortune. Speaking of fortune… here. Everything from my last shipment. It’s yours.” He tried to press a large coin purse upon me but I shook my head.

“I’ll not take every coin you have. I looked through this so-called ‘Grey Quarter’. Ulfric should be ashamed that any of his citizenry live in such squalor.”

“We’re better off than the Argonians. They’re not even allowed inside the walls.” Sadri scoffed.

“Where are they housed?” I asked.

“They live out on the docks. I wouldn’t call it a ‘house’, though.” Sadri shook his head.

“Why do you not leave? I do not think that any other Jarl would treat you thusly.”

“Most of us barely have the coin to make rent each month, never mind actually _leaving_.” Sadri confessed.

“If you pooled your coin and traveled together you would have an easier time of it.” I replied. “Yes, I know my history. You would not get on well with the Argonians. But the argument still stands for your people, Sera.”

“Where would we go? Nearly every other town and city in the province has a store like mine.” He frowned.

“I know not. But would not anywhere else be better than this?” I pointed out.

“I’ll think on what you’ve said. Oh, before I forget, here’s the robe you asked for. I found a hood with a scarf, so that should help.” I smiled as he passed them to me.

“I am grateful, Sera.” I reached for my coin purse.

“If you won’t take my coin as reward, at least take that. Please.”

“As you wish.” I nodded my head and pulled the robe over my armor. “What can you tell me about recent events within the city?” He spoke of a few mundane things before he mentioned something that made my ears twitch.

“…and that poor Aretino boy. It’s so sad what happened to him.”

 _“Speak to Aventus Aretino, in the city of Windhelm, in the province of Skyrim.”_ Those had been my orders.

“What is so sad?” I asked.

“His mother died earlier in the year. He was at the orphanage in Riften, but he ran away. He’s locked up in his old home. The rumour is that he’s been performing the Black Sacrament ever since.”

“The Black Sacrament?” I pressed, feigning ignorance.

“It’s supposed to be a ritual to summon an assassin from the Dark Brotherhood. I wouldn’t put any stock in it, if he’s _really_ been performing it for this long.”

“Where is the boy’s home? Someone should look in on him, at the very least.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it. The boy might be half-mad by now.” He gave me directions nonetheless, and I purchased some food before leaving once more. Again, Sadri’s directions were more than accurate and I soon came upon the Aretino residence. I waited for the Dunmeri nursemaid and her charge to move on before crouching and picking the lock. This one was far simpler than the Giordano woman’s had been. I opened the door and slipped inside.

“Sweet Mother, sweet Mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear.” It had been ages since I had happened upon someone performing the Sacrament. I felt myself relaxing as the boy chanted the words over and over. A parchment fluttered to the ground as I passed the table in the dining area and I picked it up.

 

_Master Aventus Aretino,_

_Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak wishes to express his deepest sympathies at the passing of your mother, Naalia._

_Unfortunately, because you are fatherless, and have no other known relations, the Jarl cannot allow you to remain in your home unsupervised. Therefore, in no more than a week’s time, you are to report to Honorhall Orphanage in Riften, where you will reside until your sixteenth birthday._

_The Aretino family home in Windhelm will, of course, remain your property. The building will be securely locked and ready for your return six years hence._

_Note that I am unsure of the education provided to you by your recently deceased mother, or if you possess the ability to read the letter I am currently composing. Therefore, a member of the city guard will call upon you in one week, at your home, and provide escort to the orphanage. Hopefully, his arrival will not come as a complete shock._

_With greatest respect,_

_Jorleif_

_Steward to our most noble Jarl, Ulfric Stormcloak_

I scoffed and shook my head. At the very least, he could have ensured that the courier read the letter to the boy if he did not possess the skills himself. I pocketed the letter and ventured further into the house.

“So… tired…” I felt a stirring of remorse at having taken so long to reach the boy. I had not known he was a child, or I would have come much sooner. There should be no reason for a child to wish someone dead, or to perform the Sacrament. The boy had set up the ritual in a side room, and was stabbing at the effigy.

“Aventus Aretino.” I called out. The boy jumped, then broke into a smile as he laid eyes upon me. He looked half-starved.

“I knew you would come!” He crowed, climbing to his feet. “I performed the Black Sacrament, with all the… things…” he looked askance at the effigy, “and then you came! An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood!”

“I will hear no talk of contracts until you have some food in you. Come along, boy.” I walked away and laid out the food I had purchased on the table.

“Are you _sure_ you’re an assassin?” He asked, looking up at me. “You don’t seem like one.”

“I came, did I not?” I sat down then gestured toward the food. “Eat. Then we shall talk.” He sat down and began to scarf down the food. “Not so quickly! You will make yourself ill!” I reprimanded, and he shrunk down in his seat. I found a metal pot and quickly stepped outside to fill it with snow. The sun was setting, and no one saw me. I went back in the house and resumed my place at the table, balancing the pot on my left hand. I summoned a flame in my left hand.

“Wow! Are you a wizard?” He gaped at the display.

“A mage.” I corrected. “When was the last time you ate, child?”

“There’s some food still left here, but I think some of it had gone bad. I ate some of it, and it made me a bit sick. I thought about getting more, but I didn’t want to leave.” I closed my eyes and sighed.

“I… apologize, for the delay. The Brotherhood is short-handed, of late.” The snow had melted into water and was boiling. I set the pot down and sent some Restoration magick into my burnt fingers.

“That’s okay. You’re here now, and you can accept my contract!”

“Food first. Then we may commence with business.” He sighed and nibbled on the bread he held in his hands. I poured him some water and shot an ice spell onto the glass to help the water cool. “You will need to drink a lot of water over the next few days. Cook it over the fire, and do not drink until it has boiled for fifty heartbeats. Can you count that high?”

“Yes.” He rolled his eyes, which I ignored.

“Your night soil will be runny for a time, but that is to be expected.”

“My what?” He asked.

“Your… shit.” I replied. “You will need to wear warm clothes, even inside. Keep a fire going all hours of the day. Do you know how to light it?”

“Yes, I can do that.” He nodded.

“I will need you to prove it to me before I leave. I will bring you warm clothes and food so you need not eat what may be left here, nor will you have much need to venture out of doors.”

“You talk funny.” He commented, and I smiled.

“I am old.” He finished his bread and looked up at me expectantly, so I gestured for him to speak.

“My mother, she… she died. I… I’m all alone now. So they sent me to that terrible orphanage in Riften. Honorhall.” He spat the last word, and I was taken aback at such vitriol. “The headmistress is an evil, cruel woman. They call her Grelod the Kind. But she’s not kind. She’s terrible, to all of us!” His brow furrowed and he glared angrily towards the wall. I leaned forward and pushed his cup towards him. He took a sip and held it in his hands as he continued. “So I ran away, and came home. And performed the Black Sacrament. Now you’re here! And you can kill Grelod the Kind!” He sat back in his seat with a smug expression. I questioned him, nigh interrogated him, and he would not budge. He wished this woman dead. I sighed.  
“It is far too late this evening to collect what I had wanted. You get to bed and I will clean this up.” I gestured towards the effigy.

“I can help!” He protested.

“Not unless you are a secret mage, child.” I rose to my feet and collected the nightshade flower and the book before setting the effigy aflame. They burned for a time before disintegrating into ash. I found a broom and swept them into a pile. Aventus fetched the pan and I swept the ashes into it. “Bed.” I repeated. I dumped the ashes outside the door before returning.

“There’s only one bed.” He stated.

“I need not stay here. I will go to the inn.”

“No!” He waved his hands. “I mean, I was offering to share.”

“ _If_ I stay,” I raised a hand for silence, “you must promise not to divulge my identity to anyone.”

“I what?” He tilted his head.

“You cannot tell anyone who I am. You must promise me this.”

“Oh! Of course I promise!” He replied gleefully. I sighed internally at the boy’s desire for living company and berated myself for having taken so long to arrive.

“Very well. I am Lycoris.” He extended his hand and I shook it, smirking.

“I’m Aventus, but you already know that.” He smiled. “The bed’s in this room.” He showed me a room in the back that I had not seen earlier, the door closed. The bed inside had a thick quilt on it. I removed my robe and outer layer of armor, leaving my leathers on. “You’re an elf!”

“I am. Does that offend you?”

“No! I haven’t seen many in your colour. Almost all the elves in Windhelm are dark elves. There’s a few wood elves in Riften, though.” He tilted his head again. “Are you gonna sleep in that?”

“It is cold.” I answered. “Now, to bed with you.” He climbed into the bed fully dressed and I wrinkled my nose. I would need to get him a few sets of clothes, as well as ensure he bathed. “Come morn, I may not be here. I will collect what you need. If you wake while I am gone, you will bathe. I will ensure that there is warm water for you.”

“You don’t sound like an assassin. Are you sure you’re not a mother?” Aventus asked. I smirked as I joined him in the bed.

“I have never borne a child. I do not believe that I am capable of such.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“You need not apologize. I came to terms with it many years ago. Now, rest.”

* * *

 Some time in the night Aventus had drawn close to me, and when I woke he was draped across me. I carefully extricated myself from him and searched the house for a bath tub. I was pleased to see that it was a metal one, which would make my work easier. I placed a fire rune on the bottom to keep the water warm while I was gone. I filled the tub with snow and melted it, adding more snow as necessary. Once I deemed it full enough I went to Sadri’s Used Wares to acquire what I needed for the boy.

“You’re back!” Sadri seemed pleased to see me.

“Yes, and I shall need three changes of boys’ clothes, blankets, and food.” I would need to chop wood for him before I left, I reminded myself. “And some books, as well.”

“So you did go and see him.” He commented, gathering what I required.

“The boy was half-starved and is ill. I only hope that he will continue to care for himself while I am not here.” I played the weak-willed, soft-hearted woman, and Sadri bought it.

“I don’t know what to tell you. I’m sorry he didn’t take proper care of himself. What about the… Dark Brotherhood?”

“He left the orphanage simply because he did not like the headmistress. I found no signs of anything amiss.” Well, naught that _I_ would find amiss. I paid for my purchases and returned the Aretino residence. Aventus was still abed, so I laid my purchases down and left again to chop wood. It was near noon before I felt I had enough to last a fair amount of time, and Aventus should have risen by then, so I carried it back into town.

“You come here where you’re not wanted, you eat our food, you pollute our city with your stink, and you refuse to help the Stormcloaks.” I heard a man speaking as I entered the city.

“But we haven’t taken a side because it’s not our fight.” A Dunmeri woman was saying.

“Hey, maybe the reason these gray-skins don’t help in the war is because they’re Imperial spies!” Another man spat.

“Imperial spies? You can’t be serious!” The woman shot back.

“Maybe we’ll pay you a visit tonight, little spy. We got ways of finding out what you _really_ are.” The first man sneered.

The woman shook her head as the two men departed and laid her eyes on me.

“Do you hate the dark elves, too? Are you here to bully us and tell us to leave?”

“I have no issue with Dunmer, Sera, lest they have issue with me.” I replied. Her brows rose at the title.

“You’ve come to the wrong city, then. Windhelm’s a haven of prejudice and narrow thinking, unworthy of one such as you.” We were not alone in the street, and thus I slipped into the Aldmeri tongue common to all elves.

 _“Why do you remain?”_ I asked her. _“I asked the same of_ Sadri _last night, and he did not have a proper answer for me.”_ The woman sighed.

_“There are difficulties to leaving, just as there are to remaining.”_

_“Would not anywhere else be better than a place where you are not wanted?”_ I pressed. _“I do not understand it.”_ I shook my head.

 _“My people are stubborn. Some do leave, looking for better lives than they are offered here.”_ She admitted. _“My thanks for your concern. I am_ SuvarisAtheron _.”_ She offered her arm and I clasped her wrist.

“Lycoris. _Azura watch over you.”_ It was a traditional Dunmer blessing.

 _“And you as well.”_ I returned to the Aretino residence, and was pleased to see that Aventus had bathed, as per my instructions.

“I figured you must have magicked it to stay warm, so I didn’t want to try emptying it.” He gestured towards the tub.

“It would not have harmed you had you tried, but I suspect you would have needed to make many trips. You will need to bathe regularly and wash your clothes as best you can. You can empty and fill the tub on your own. The fire rune will melt any snow you put within, and will not hurt you lest you touch it.” He looked at the tub warily. “It is on the bottom. I have brought you more clothes, food, and blankets, as well as a few books. Before I take my leave I wish for you to show me you can start a fire on your own.” He collected the necessary materials, and though it took a few tries he managed to light it.

“I told you I could do it.” He told me, a smile on his lips.

“You did. I cannot say how long I will be gone, but there should be more than enough wood here for you. If all else fails, you may need to purchase some.” I put a bag of coin on the table. “You must not spend this foolishly. It must last until I return.”

“I thought that I was supposed to pay you.” Aventus frowned at the bag.

“I will consider your improved health upon my return payment enough.” I informed him. “I must be off.”

“You’re leaving already? You haven’t eaten yet!” He protested.

“I have another contract besides yours. I have not yet paid a visit to him.” I strapped on my armor. “You must not make any mention of performing the Sacrament, or that I am an assassin. You understand this, yes?”

“Of course I do. I’m not stupid.” He groused.

“I did not say that you were. I would rather ask than assume.” I performed some mental math and came to the conclusion that I was nearly three hundred septims shy of purchasing a horse. “I will see you another time, child.” Aventus nodded and I left.

* * *

 I made the journey to Riften on foot. There were numerous bandit dens along the way, which served to expand my income significantly. I sold what I could at the village of Shor’s Stone, as well as clearing out the spiders from their mine, before I carried on to Riften. It was a beautiful Hold, but odd creatures lurked there. I encountered many Spriggans, I was not pleased to see. I reached the city less than a day after leaving Shor's Stone.

“Hold there.” One of the guards called out. “Before I let you into Riften, you need to pay the visitor’s tax.”

“What is this ‘tax’ for?” I queried, playing along.

“For the privilege of entering the city. What does it matter?” He asked in turn. I rose a brow.

“This is extortion. Do you take me for a fool?” I snapped, and he looked about.

“All right, keep your voice down… you want everyone to hear you? I’ll let you in, just let me unlock the gate.” He raised his hands with his palms facing me before unlocking the gate. “There. Go on in.” I did not reply as I brushed past him. It was late afternoon, and I wished to wait until night fell before carrying out my contract.

“Fine! If you won’t listen to me, I’ll find someone who will!” A guardsman was driving off an older man – at sword point – from the gate. The man shook his head and stormed off. I followed him, moving further into the town, only to be stopped once more.

“I don’t know you. You in Riften lookin’ for trouble?” He was a typical Nord – large, brash, and in dire need of a bath.

“My business is my own.” I told him, then continued on my way.

“Don’t say something you’ll regret.” He called after me, and I ignored him. I crossed the bridge that lead to the inn, passing by a woman and a Redguard man. There was a priest of Mara castigating those occupying the inn. I ignored him and sat down at a table. Once the priest left, a Saxhleel man wearing an apron approached me.

“Welcome to the Bee and Barb, milady.” He bobbed his head. “I am Talen-Jei. Is there anything that I can get for you?”

“What do you have?” I asked.

“We serve meals throughout the day. We have beef stew and fresh bread, or you can have roast beef with gravy and vegetables, also with bread, if you like. We also have specialty drinks that I brew myself.”

“Such as?” I pressed.

“First is the Velvet LeChance, which is a mixture of blackberry, honey, spiced wine, and a touch of nightshade… perfectly safe, I assure you.” He added, seeing my raised brow. “Secondly, we have the White-Gold Tower, which is heavy cream with a layer of blended mead, lavender, and a dragon’s tongue on top. Last, and only for the bravest of souls, we have the Cliff Racer, which is Firebrand Wine, Cyrodiilic Brandy, Flin, and Sujamma.” He folded his hands in front of him.

“I will try the Velvet LeChance. I would also like a bowl of stew.” I had no need to partake of food or drink, but it was best to keep up appearances.

“At once, milady. Would you like some bread with it?”

“No, thank you.” He bowed his head once more and left. I pulled one of the books I had purchased from Sadri and began to read as I waited. I longed for my personal library in Cyrodiil, in Frostcrag Spire, just outside of Bruma. I had stopped there just before I came to Skyrim, and I had been surprised to see that it yet stood. There was some slight damage to the outside, from the Thalmor’s assault on Bruma, which was easily repaired. It had been the first time I was there since the Thalmor desecrated the city. I paid a visit to the Night Mother’s crypt, which had been destroyed. I knew that somewhere, someone had escaped. The Night Mother yet survived, but I knew not how to find any remaining members of the Dark Brotherhood. I had stopped by at all the Sanctuaries and found no one. There had always been little to no contact with those outside our own Sanctuaries, not counting the members of the Black Hand. Whether the Thalmor knew as much or not, it had been used against us. There was no warning when the Thalmor rushed into the Cheydinhal Sanctuary. I still do not know if we were played or betrayed, but I hoped for the former. I would rather that someone had been foolish enough to try and induct a member of the Thalmor than have another Mathieu Bellamont. Arquen and I held them off at the front door whilst the others escaped through the ladder in the well. As much as Arquen and I had never gotten along, she gained my respect that day. She stood in front of me as I fired arrows around her. I cannot recall how long we fought, but she gained a grievous injury that she had not mentioned. We killed the last of the Thalmor and she collapsed. I healed the wound, but she had lost too much blood.

_“Listener… I am sorry.” Arquen breathed, her eyes unfocused._

_“It is no fault of yours.” I soothed her. I held her in my arms, kneeling on the ground._

_“You have to leave. They cannot find you, I will not allow it.” I could hear footsteps overhead. “Flee, Listener, so that the Dark Brotherhood may survive.”_

“Here’s your drink, and your meal.” I shook myself out of my reverie and looked up at Talen-Jei.

“Thank you.” He placed the bowl and mug upon the table.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” He folded his hands behind his back once more.

“What can you tell me about Riften? This is my first time in the city.” I put my book down on the table and fished a handful of septims out of my coin purse, laying them on the table.

“There isn’t much here. We have the Black-Briar Meadery, Bolli’s fishery, a blacksmith, a general store, and the main market. Elgrim’s Elixirs, the alchemical shop, is on the lower level. Mistveil Keep is where the Jarl lives, the Temple of Mara is here, and we have the only orphanage in Skyrim. Of course, there’s also the Thieves Guild.” He shrugged, scooping up the coins.

“I did not know that there was a Thieves Guild.” I commented. I could get around to the orphanage later.

“They’re not much. A bunch of thugs hiding out in the Ratway, the sewers beneath the city. If you go down to the lower levels, be careful.”

“I thank you for the warning.” I nodded. “You mentioned an orphanage, earlier.”

“It and the Temple of Mara would be this city’s redeeming qualities, if it weren’t for the old hag who runs the place. She’s called ‘Grelod the Kind’ as a joke. She’s one of the nastiest people I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

“Why does no one do anything?” I asked, frowning.

“I guess no one else wants to run the orphanage. Poor kids.” He shook his head. “I heard that the old lady doesn’t even let people adopt the kids anymore. One of them ran away a while back, and that’s apparently made her even worse.” I heard the door open behind me, and Talen-Jei looked up. “I’m sorry, but I can’t talk any longer. Just about anyone in here could probably answer any questions that you might have.” I sat up to the table and opened the book up as I began to eat. The stew seemed good enough, but I was a poor judge of such things. The drink, however, was delicious. I ordered a second one once my stew was gone and I had finished the first. I paid for my meal and drinks, then headed out into the marketplace through the door that Talen-Jei had pointed out. The canal that ran below the city carried an ungodly stench, but it seemed that the people of Riften had grown used to it. The Jarl’s keep was spotted easily enough, and the orphanage was right beside it. That might make things… interesting, to say the least. There was a stone wall with spikes running along the top, I saw. That might be a yard of sorts for the children. Some of the merchants at their stalls were beginning to pack up their wares, which meant it was a bit later than I had previously thought. That also meant that within an hour, the square would be empty save for the guards.

“Vampire!” I heard the shout and spun about, summoning a Bound Bow. I saw that it was not towards me that people were looking, but the main gates. A few people ran off the streets, taking shelter indoors. Everyone was distracted, I saw, so I took the chance to slip into the orphanage. I crouched as soon as I entered the building.

“Those who shirk their duties will get an extra beating!” I heard a voice say. I quietly closed the door behind me as the voice continued. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Grelod.” A chorus of voices – the children, it sounded like – replied.

“And one more thing – I will hear no more talk of adoptions. None of you riff-raff is getting adopted, ever. Nobody needs you, nobody wants you. That, my little darlings, is why you’re here. Why you’ll _always_ be here, ’til the say you come of age and get thrown into that wide, horrible world! Now, what do you all say?”

“We love you, Grelod. Thank you for your kindness.”

“That’s better. Now scurry off, my little guttersnipes.” There were footsteps, and I could hear the children climbing into their beds. They must not have heard all the noise outside. I cast an Invisibility spell and slunk into the room. There was another woman there, as Aventus had told me there would be. I cast a sleeping spell first upon her, as she climbed into her bed, and then on each of the children as I passed them. I knew that I would have little magicka left for some time afterwards, but it was worth it, in my opinion. The last thing I wanted was for one of the children to see me. Once my spells were cast I pushed open the doors to Grelod’s chambers. She was awake, and reading. She did not hear me enter, nor as I snuck up behind her.

“Aventus asked that I pay you a visit.” I whispered. She made to leap out of her chair and I wrapped my hands about her throat before twisting sharply. There was a loud snap, and the woman slumped over in the chair. The deed was done. However, my ‘distraction’ outside was likely dead by this point, so I would need to be careful. I slipped out of Grelod’s chambers, closing the door behind me. I left through another door, which led out into the yard I had seen earlier. I leapt upwards, catching the lip of the wall. I pulled myself upwards and crouched atop it. There were no guards nearby, so I jumped down the other side, rolling once I hit the ground. I hit the wall outside the Jarl’s keep and looked about once more. There were still no guards. I smiled to myself and headed back to the inn. No one had seen me enter or leave the orphanage, and I only needed a few hours to sleep. I would be up with the dawn, unless I found myself a bed partner. Upon entering the inn, Talen-Jei approached me.

“I didn’t know if you were still in town or if you had left. Are you all right?” I raised a brow.

“I am well. Why do you ask?” I brought up the beginning of a Frenzy spell in the palms of my hands.

“There was a vampire attack. There were two of them this time, and a handful of thralls.”

“I heard the warning, but I saw nothing.” I replied, shaking my head. “Was anyone injured?” The more I seemed to care, the more ‘normal’ I would appear. It was an act that I had perfected a long, long time ago.

“Three guardsmen died, and Shadr was injured. He didn’t quite make it indoors in time.”

“Who is he, and how was he injured?” I pressed.

“He got struck by an arrow. He was taken to the Temple of Mara, but I don’t know if they can do anything for him.”

“Was it a thrall or a vampire who struck him?” I frowned, folding my arms across my chest. “And do you know if the alchemical store is still open?”

“I don’t know which it was.” He admitted. “Elgrim is open nearly all hours of the day. If you go out the door, there’s a set of stairs near the bridge. Head downwards, and it’s the last door on the left.” I nodded, turned on my heel, and left the inn. My first stop was at the pile of vampire corpses still in the street. Funnily enough, vampire dust is a key ingredient in a potion to cure diseases. I collected what dust I could and then headed down to Elgrim’s Elixirs. After browsing his wares, I saw that he did have what I needed – a mudcrab chitin, and a skeever hide.

“What’s this about, then?” Elgrim asked. “I don’t usually get customers this time of night.”

“Might I use your alchemy table and your cooking pot?” I asked in turn.

“Yes, go ahead. But what is this all for?” He pressed.

“There was a vampire attack. A young man was injured, and no one can tell me who injured him.” Elgrim whistled softly. If anyone knew the dangers of vampiric weaponry, it would be the alchemist.

“Was anyone else…?” I cooked the hide and shrugged my shoulders.

“I know that some guardsmen died. That is all.” Once the hide had finished I approached the alchemy table and ground the ingredients together. Alchemy could be difficult for those who did not enjoy it, but I took pleasure in crafting potions and poisons. Elgrim handed me a pot containing boiling water as well as a bottle to put the potion in. I poured the ground ingredients into the bottle first and then a small amount of water. I stoppered it and shook it in a circle, counting to thirty. Once I finished I cast a Magelight spell and inspected the bottle’s contents. They were a dark blood red, which meant it needed more water.

“I wondered why you only wanted a cure disease potion.” Elgrim commented.

“I can take care of any other injuries with magick.” I agreed, and began to carefully add water to the bottle until the contents were pale red. “Still a little strong, but it will do.”

“With something like that, strong is better anyway.” Elgrim pointed out.

“This is true.” I nodded. “Thank you for allowing me the use of your equipment.”

“Not a problem, girl. You know how to get to the Temple?” I nodded once more. “You’re welcome here any time you like.” Elgrim stated. Not knowing what to say, I simply thanked him once more and left. I made my way to the Temple and pushed open the door. There was a hushed conversation that stopped as the door closed loudly behind me. A Dunmeri woman came from the back of the Temple, a strained smile on her lips.

“Hello, and welcome to the Temple of Mara. I’m Dinya Balu. Is there something that I can help you with?”

 _“No, Sera, but there is something that I can help you with.”_ I gestured towards the back, where she had come from. _“Is that where_ Shadr _is?”_ Her smile became less strained upon hearing the Aldmeri tongue, but she became more guarded as I spoke.

 _“He was injured tonight, yes. He is not able to receive visitors.”_ I shook my head and showed her the potion I had crafted.

 _“I know not what skills you or the other priests have, so I crafted a potion for him. I wish only to aid him.”_ The boy’s injuries were partly my fault. If I had not had the perfect chance to slip into the orphanage unawares, I would have helped the guards. If a vampire was feral enough to attack a city it deserved to be put out of its misery. Dinya narrowed her eyes at me.

 _“In these troubled times it is hard to tell friend from foe.”_ I nodded and opened the bottle, taking a sip to prove it was not dangerous.

 _“I say again: I wish only to help. I crafted this with the assistance of Elgrim, the alchemist. I also know an assortment of healing spells.”_ She relaxed once she saw that I had not taken any ill effects from the potion.

 _“I apologize for my mistrust. He is a_ Redguard _, and while there is not as much hatred towards them as towards other races, it is still there.”_ She led me to a room in the back of the Temple. I could smell blood in the air, which reminded me that I had not yet fed that day. I could feed later, I reminded myself. I recognized the young man from when I had entered Riften. He was conscious at the moment, which was good. I knelt down beside him and inspected him. Someone had wrapped his injury rather poorly, and I frowned at the make-shift bandages.

 _“Do none of you know how to dress a wound?”_ I asked, mainly to myself. I saw Dinya stiffen out of the corner of my eye. The arrow had sunk into his shoulder. I placed a hand on his forehead, and he felt far too warm. “He may be running a fever.” I spoke in Common, so that they could all understand. “You should not have removed the arrow, but in light of the fact that you did not know help was coming…” I sighed and looked around. “Where is the arrow?” One of the acolytes handed it to me and I cursed.

“What’s wrong?” Dinya asked.

“Part of it is still inside him. See this?” I pointed to a corner of the arrow. “They should both look the same.” I unwrapped the wound and Shadr hissed in pain. “Look at me.” I tapped his chin, and he rolled his head to look at me. “I am going to help you, but it is going to hurt. First I need you to drink this.” I showed him the potion. “This will not heal you. This is to cure you, in case you were infected by one of the vampires. If you do not drink this, and you were infected, you will turn into a vampire in three days’ time. Do you understand me?”

“…yes, I understand.” He nodded.

“Good. After you drink this, I will cast two spells on you. The first will put you to sleep, and the second one will be a Paralysis spell. I need to remove the part of the arrowhead that is still in your shoulder, and I may need to open the wound further. Once that is removed I will heal you. Do you still understand?”

“I think so.” He nodded once more.

“Very good. I will help you sit up and you will drink the potion.” I took him by the uninjured arm and helped him sit upright. “It will not taste very good.” I cautioned him, handing over the potion.

“My mother always said that if potions tasted good they wouldn’t be doing their jobs.” Shadr smirked. I uncorked the bottle and he raised it to his lips. Once it was gone he made a face and shook his head. I handed him a cup of water and he drank it as well.

“Now on to the next step.” I laid him back down and cast first the sleeping spell, then the Paralysis spell. I cast a Candlelight spell and then inspected the wound once more. “I need a pot of water.” I removed my gauntlets as one of the acolytes collected the water. I heated the pot in much the same way as I had for Aventus, waiting for it to boil. Once it was boiling I rinsed off and dried my hands. Someone made an odd noise when I placed my hands in the water, but I ignored it. I shook the water from my hands and then leaned over Shadr’s chest. I sent a small amount of Alteration magick into the wound to find the arrow shard. It was lodged behind his bone, where it must have caught when the arrow was removed. I shook my head and sighed. “The arrow should have been pushed through and then the head snapped off. By pulling it straight out the arrow caught on a bone and a piece snapped off.” I explained. “My work would have already been done. He would only have needed to drink the potion and be healed.” I wrapped the strands of magick around the arrow shard and tugged. It must have looked a bit odd to the onlookers, however, since all they could see was my finger drawing a circle in the air and then pulling. I coaxed the shard out of the wound slowly, not wanting to cause any more damage.

“What’s taking so long?” I heard someone whisper, and then a woman shushed them. I saw the shard exit the wound and brought it into my hand with the strands of magick still around it before dispelling them. I tossed it into the pot of water then placed both hands over the wound and pouring Restoration magick into it. I tugged the torn flesh together, starting from inside. Black liquid seeped out of the wound, and I was glad I had made the potion before coming to the Temple.

“What is that?” Someone asked.

“He was struck by an arrow shot from a vampire’s bow. He caught Sanguinare Vampiris. Vampirism.” I informed them. “That is why I had him drink the potion first. Had I healed him first it would have been more difficult to remove the disease, because I would have been encouraging it to remain with magick.” Once the wound was healed I used the make-shift bandages to wipe away the blood and ichor before dispelling the spells he was under. Shadr’s eyes opened and he looked around.

“That didn’t take long.” He commented.

“To you, perhaps.” I replied, drawing his attention. “Your shoulder will be weak for a time. Do not overexert yourself, and if you must carry something, do not lift it above your head. Your muscles need time to rebuild.” I rose to my feet.

“Thank you.” Shadr said. “You didn’t need to help me, but you did. I’m sorry that I can’t give you anything in return.” I waved a hand.

“It was nothing.” I turned and left the Temple, returning to the inn. When I asked after renting a room, Talen-Jei directed me towards Keerava, the Saxhleel woman at the bar. I procured a room for the night then headed up the stairs. It was a small, plain room, but I did not much care. I undressed and climbed into the bed, and it was not long before I was asleep.

* * *

 I slept quite a bit later than I had intended to. When I woke it was a few hours past dawn, and I cursed under my breath as I climbed out of bed. After dressing, I descended the stairs and slipped out the door before I could be halted. I tugged my hood further over my face, but was stopped not fifty paces from the gates.

“You’re the girl who saved Shadr, aren’t you?” I stifled a sigh and turned towards the voice. I recognized the man I had seen being driven away from the gates as I entered Riften.

“What of it?” I asked tersely. Just because I had helped did not mean that no one would point a finger at me when Grelod’s death was discovered. The spells I had cast the night before would dissipate soon.

“You’ve got to help me. The guards refuse to do anything about it, and someone needs to look into it!” He fumed.

“I will not do anything if you do not tell me what it is you wish me to do. Even then there is no guarantee.” I stated, folding my arms across my chest. He sighed and shook his head.

“I’m sorry. My name is Jalamar. I was taking a walk the other night, as I do, and I saw some men outside the Echo Deep Mine. The thing is, they looked like mercenaries, up to no good.”

“What would make you think that? The place is a mine, perhaps they are simply mining.” I commented.

“I’ve never seen them around before, and they looked real tough. In addition, the Echo Deep Mines are not a place that people go. There are myths about it.” His voice dropped on the last sentence, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

“Such as?” The myths might not be true, but they might also give me an idea of what to expect should I venture inside.

“All sorts of stories. Some say it’s haunted by ghosts. Some say a wealthy bandit lord hides out in it, quietly contributing to the crime in Riften. Some people even say that deep within the mines there are Dwemer ruins. Full of all sorts of Dwarven automatons, just waiting to slay whoever enters.”

“And what is it that the guards are unwilling to do?” I asked.

“On my way back from my walk, I passed the mine entrance again. I heard all sorts of horrific noises. I reckon something happened to those men. Anyone going into those mines is up to no good. I’ve asked the guards to take a look, but they just ignore me. I need someone to see what’s happened.” I sighed and rubbed my brow.

“And you wish for me to go and look into this on your behalf.” I surmised.

“Please, if they are planning something, the city guard needs to know. Please, go check for me.” He took a half step toward me, reaching out his hand. I slapped his hand away before he could touch me.

“I cannot look into this immediately, as I have urgent business that takes priority.” I warned him.

“I suppose that’s better than nothing.” He grumbled. “I’ll mark it on your map, and keep trying to get the guards to look into it.”

“From what I saw yesterday, continuing to harass the guards does not seem to be a sound plan.” I commented.

“Sound or not, someone needs to look into it. If you do go in, be careful. We still don’t know what’s in there.” I handed Jalamar my map and he pointed out where the mine was.

“Now, if there is nothing else that you need, I must be on my way.” I informed him, taking back the map. I turned on my heel and exited the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jalamar, his dialogue, and anything else that you don't recognize (or maybe you will, I don't know) is content from the Falskaar mod. I have permission from the mod's author to include his content. If you have a PC and you haven't played it yet, I encourage you to check it out.


	3. Chapter 3

After looking over the horses at the Riften stables, I decided to save my coin and purchase at another stable. I was not the best judge of horseflesh, but I knew enough to know when a horse was not fit for hard travel. I made the journey back to Windhelm on foot. Instead of travelling the Shor’s Stone road, however, I took the other route. At the very least it would provide a change of scenery, and it might even provide me with a meal. I was provided with a few meals from different bandits along the way, for which I was grateful. I did not like to enter a city or a settlement if I had not recently fed. If I went too long without feeding my face would take on a gaunt, sunken appearance, and my eyes became bloodshot, making it difficult to blend in. I gained enough attention as a stranger, there was no need to draw more. Also, a skilled vampire hunter would recognize the signs. The journey back to Windhelm took no more time than the one to Riften had, and upon arriving at the city I made my way to the Aretino residence. I was surprised to overhear some of the guardsmen mention Grelod’s demise. I had thought the news would take longer to travel. I let myself into Aventus’ home and the boy met me at the top of the stairs.

“You’re back!” He smiled. “Does that mean…?”

“Yes. The contract is complete.” I affirmed. Aventus’ smile grew wider and he threw his arms about my waist. I stiffened for a moment, then patted his back.

“I knew you could do it! I just knew it! I knew the Dark Brotherhood would save me!” He crowed, waving his fists in the air. I smirked to myself and folded my arms across my chest, leaning on the door frame.

“Have you been taking care of yourself as I asked you to?” I queried once he was finished.

“Yes, I have. Sadri came to check on me, the day after you left.”

“The respectful term for Dunmeri is ‘Sera’, and you will use it when referring to them.” I corrected.

“I didn’t know that. But I’ve been bathing and trying to keep clean. You were right about the, um… _night soil_.” He wrinkled his nose.

“Of course I was.” I commented. “It was good of Sera Sadri to come and see you.”

“He brought some more food. I don’t think I’ll be able to eat it all, so I’ll probably take it with me when I go back to the orphanage.”

“Do you still have the coin I gave you?” I pressed, and he nodded. “Hire a carriage to take you there. I would accompany you, but I have business in Markarth.”

“Is it another contract?” He asked, bouncing on his toes.

“It is not your concern.” His smile faded, and I sighed. “The less you know of my business, the safer that you will be. Do you understand that?”

“I guess so.” He mumbled.

“Good. I will help you pack, then escort you to the carriage.” It did not take long, seeing as all he needed were his clothes and the food that remained. I showed him how to carry the coin purse so that no one could see he wore it. Just as we were about to leave the building, Aventus spoke up once more.

“Wait! I almost forgot!” He ran back up the stairs while I remained at the door. He returned with a plate in hand. “I know you said that you didn’t need anything, but I want to give you something anyway.” He pushed the plate into my hands. “I know it’s not much.” He looked down at the floor, shuffling his feet. I looked down at the plate, studying it. He was correct in saying that it was not much, but it was likely all he had without paying me in the coin I had given him.

“Thank you, Aventus. This is very kind of you.” I slipped the plate into my pack and picked up his bag off the floor. “Now, we must be off.” We stepped outside, and as Aventus locked the door I called flames into my hand, heating it.

“What are you doing?” Aventus queried.

“Is anyone approaching?” I asked in turn, and he looked about.

“I don’t see anyone.” He replied. I overcharged the spell, burning my hand. Once my hand was nearly blistering I pressed it against the stone of the wall, leaving a hand-shaped imprint. When I removed my hand pieces of skin remained behind. “What did you do that for? Doesn’t that hurt?” Aventus’ eyes were wide and the blood had drained from his face. I healed my hand before answering.

“I am protecting what you have left the only way I can, short of sitting on the roof day in and day out.” I prodded him towards the gate. “Anyone who knows what they are looking at will know that this building is under the protection of the Dark Brotherhood. Everyone else will see an odd mark upon the wall.”

“You didn’t have to hurt yourself, did you?” He pressed.

“It was faster than painting the print upon the wall, and pain can be ignored.” I replied. Upon reaching the gate we were hailed by a guard.

“Where are you taking the boy, Elf?” He spat out the last word as though it left a foul taste in his mouth.

“I am escorting him to the carriage, which he will ride back to Riften.” I explained.

“Likely story, Elf.” He sneered. “You, boy! Did this Elf hurt you?”

“Of course not! She’s been taking care of me. She brought me food and clothes and books and everything.” Aventus frowned up at the guard.

“What is the problem, guardsman?” I asked tiredly. “I have business elsewhere that I must attend to.” The guard did not answer me, but flagged down one of his comrades.

“I have to stay at my post, but he can escort the both of you to the carriage and make sure that you’re not up to something.” I rubbed my brow and sighed.

“I care not who accompanies us. I am delayed enough as it is.” I pushed past the guard and walked through the gates. I heard the second guardsman hurry to catch up with us.

“What d’you think that was about?” Aventus asked.

“Do you.” I corrected absentmindedly. “What that was ‘about’ is undignified and uncalled for.”

“I don’t get it.” He replied.

“They are prejudiced against me because I am an elf and a woman.” I answered, my upper lip curled.

“They’re what?”

“They dislike and mistrust me because of who and what I am.” I explained. “Relations between men and mer have always been… tense, but the Great War served to make said relations worse than before.” When I had been in Hammerfell, I had nearly been killed on sight because of the shape of my ears. I had not been left alone in all of the time I fought with them. I had needed to resort to feeding upon my guards whenever I was able. It was during that time that I had perfected my Sleep spell.

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Aventus replied.

“Men rarely do.” I agreed. We arrived at the stables and the carriage. Aventus climbed into the back, and I continued towards the driver. “You will take the boy to Riften.” I stated, handing him some septims. “He will pay you the rest when you arrive.” The driver nodded, accepting the coins. I walked back to Aventus and handed him the dagger I had purchased in Riverwood. “Keep this hidden, but close at hand.” I whispered. His eyes widened as he took it from me.

“Thank you.” He replied. “When I grow up, I’m gonna be an –” He cut himself off with a glance at the guard. “I’m gonna be just like you, so I can help lots of children.”

“If that is your wish, then you must train.” I told him. He hid the dagger beside the coin purse and sat down. “Take care, Aventus.” I stepped back from the wagon and called out to the driver. He flicked the reins, putting the carriage into motion.

“’Bye, Lycoris!” He called, waving. I raised a hand in response, then turned towards the guard.

“Are you to escort me to my destination, as well? Or is this far enough?” I asked, putting my hands on my hips.

“Where are you headed?” The guard demanded.

“That is none of your concern.” I informed him. I then turned on my heels and walked away, following the road west.

* * *

  _“Speak to Madanach, in the city of Markarth, in the province of Skyrim.”_ Far easier ordered than accomplished. Once I entered Markarth, I headed directly to the inn. There was a commotion behind me, but I paid it no attention. I sat down at the bar and ordered a drink, then proceeded to ask after the local rumours. Forsworn activity, shrine of Azura, a beggar was kicked out of the Temple of Dibella, and the Hall of the Dead was closed, whatever that might be.

“There’s a Vigilant of Stendarr in town.” The barkeep mentioned. “He’s just on the street, outside the abandoned house.” While that information was helpful, there was nothing else of note. I frowned into my drink. No mention of the Dark Brotherhood, the Black Sacrament, or a man named Madanach. I finished my drink and left the inn, nearly running over a man on my way out.

“Gods. A woman attacked right in the street.” The man shook his head. “Are you all right? Did you see what happened?”

“I only just arrived. I must have missed it.” I shrugged. The man frowned for a moment before holding out a slip of parchment.

“Oh, I think you dropped this. Some kind of note. Looks important.” I made no move to take it.

“I did not drop it.” I told him.

“Well, it’s not mine. It must be yours.” He waved the note at me, waiting for me to accept it. I stifled a sigh and accepted the note.

 

_Meet me at the Shrine of Talos._

 

“When?” I asked, looking up, but the man was gone. I pocketed the note with a noise of disapproval. It was still early in the day, and thus I decided to wander the city. The man had piqued my interest, and it would do no harm to see what he wanted from me. On the other hand, however, I knew that there were Thalmor within the city. If the shrine was still open, which it appeared to be, it was likely an ill-laid trap for Talos worshippers. I avoided the main thoroughfare and the Vigilant, opting to take the ‘scenic route’ through the city. For obvious reasons I had no love for his kind. While I greatly wished to slay him, I could not do so in broad daylight. Not with a contract on the line. While it had not been the Viglilants who had taken my first true family from me, it had been men and women like him who had slain them. I stopped at the alchemical supplies store, purchasing ingredients and creating a handful of potions and poisons. I kept the potions and sold the poisons. From there I travelled to the Jarl’s Keep, Understone.

“What are you hiding, priest?” A man demanded as I entered. A Nordic man was arguing with a man wearing Arkay’s robes. The two men argued back and forth for a few minutes, and the Nord left. I approached the priest.

“If it’s about the Hall of the Dead, no, you can’t go in there.” The priest informed me.

“What is the Hall of the Dead?” I asked. “I have never heard of such a thing.”

“New to Skyrim?” He asked, and I nodded. “I was confused at first, too. The Nords call their mausoleums the Hall of the Dead. It’s where people in the city are buried. Fathers. Forefathers. Mothers. Foremothers.” I blanched. Barbarians, all of them.

“That Nord did not seem pleased with you.” I commented, nodding in the direction the other man had left in.

“I can’t talk about it. Rest assured, the Jarl hears everyone’s concerns. You will be able to visit the dead again soon.”

“Bosmer do not inter their dead in such a manner. I am not here to visit kin.” Nor would I, even if they had been. “It seems that there may be a problem. For a price, I may be able to assist you.”

“I was going to suggest the Jarl hire someone to sort this mess out, anyway.” The priest shrugged. Someone, or something, had been eating those interred within the Hall of the Dead. The priest had been unable to discover the culprit thus far. I agreed to look into the matter. The priest gave me the key and bade me to be cautious. I followed him to the door leading into the Hall and entered, leaving the priest outside. I locked the door behind me and took a few steps forward.

“Not many would walk blindly into a crypt, smelling of steel and blood, but not fear.” A voice intoned, echoing off the stone walls. “I feel the hunger inside of you. You see the dead and your mouth grows wet. Your stomach growls.” Anyone who knew anything about the Bosmeri religion would know that my kind were cannibalistic. The practice had mostly fallen out of favour, but there were still some few who followed the Green Pact to the letter. “It’s all right. I will not shun you for what you are. Stay. I will tell you everything you have forgotten.” I raised a brow. I had forgotten nothing. The people to whom I had been born were among the few who still practiced cannibalism, and I had remained with them until I had been sold into slavery, a transgression I had never forgiven. I heard footsteps and a woman walked into my line of sight. “You were young when you first tasted human flesh, weren’t you? A brother or sister had died? An accident, of course.”

“You are correct on the first count, but not the second.” I replied. “I was raised on the flesh of the dead.” I had, for the most part, curbed my appetites whilst travelling. Although I did not need to partake, but there was nothing quite like feasting on the flesh of someone you killed. The woman rose a brow.

“It isn’t often that I meet someone who admits to their appetites.” She commented. “Most of our kind block out the memory of their first meal. The shame is too much.”

“I presume it because of you that the priest has closed the Hall?” I asked. “Rather bold of you.”

“We have a sanctuary. A place where we can sate our appetites without judgement. It’s inside Reachcliff Cave. But the dead have stirred from their slumber recently, and I was forced here.” She explained. “If you would like, meet me there. We can fight our way to Namira’s embrace together.” I should have known that Daedra would be involved. However, Namira was, overall, not the _worst_ Prince one could worship.

“Where is this cave?” I asked. The woman beamed and gave me directions.

“Until then, tell the people of Markarth their dead won’t be disturbed, anymore. We have bigger plans ahead.”

“I will not be able to go immediately. I have business in Markarth that has been put off for far too long already.”

“Perhaps I can help you.” She purred, stepping towards me.

“What can you tell me of a man called Madanach?” I asked, and her eyes widened.

“The King in Rags? He’s in Cidhna Mine. Has been for twenty-some-odd years.”

“Once my business with him is complete, I shall find this cave and assist you.” I promised. It had been a long time since I had consumed the flesh of the dead.

“You’re not going to kill him, are you?” She demanded, and I shook my head.

“No. I need only speak with him.” She must be one of the Reach women, a member of the Forsworn I had heard so much about.

“Good. I am Eola, by the way.”

“I am Lycoris.” I replied. “Where is this mine?” The woman laughed.

“It’s not quite as simple as that. It’s a prison, right here in the city. No one’s ever escaped from it.” I smiled grimly.

“I have heard that statement afore, and it has not stopped me. I need to know everything about this prison.”

* * *

 Once Eola and I parted ways I informed the priest I had dealt with the issue. He thanked me profusely, handing me his amulet in pay. I left the Keep, re-entering the city. After a short time wandering I located the shrine to Talos. I was not surprised to see that the man was not yet there. He likely wished to wait for the cover of darkness, which was not for a few hours yet. I cast an Invisibility spell upon myself and sat upon the floor, thinking over what Eola had told me of Cidhna Mine. From the sounds of things, it would be difficult to sneak in, and even more so to leave. I would need to do both twice. I could perhaps commit a small crime and have myself thrown into the prison, but I did not wish to serve a sentence of any form. It would also inspire little confidence in my skills as an assassin were I to be tossed in as a prisoner. I knew not exactly how much time had passed when I heard the door to the shrine creak open. I rose to a crouch, summoning a Bound Bow and recasting Invisibility. I dispelled the Bow when I saw that it was the man from earlier. He walked down the ramp into the shrine, his back turned to me.

“You wished to see me?” I stood and dispelled my Invisibility. The man jumped and spun about to face me.

“Divines, you startled me!” He put a hand on his chest. “Don’t do that to people!”

“I say again: you wished to see me?” I repeated, putting a hand on a hip. He nodded.

“I’m sorry to drag you into Markarth’s problems, but after that attack in the market, I’m running out of time.” He looked over me, head to toe and back up. “You’re an outsider. You’re dangerous looking. You’ll do.”

“I’ll not do a thing lest you explain.” I snapped.

“You want answers? Well so do I. So does everyone in this city. A man goes crazy in the market. Everyone knows he’s a Forsworn agent. Guards do nothing. Nothing but clean up the mess.” He gesticulated as he spoke. “This has been going on for years, and all I’ve been able to find is murder and blood. I need help.” He sighed, lowering his arms. “Please. You find out why that woman was attacked, who’s behind Weylin and the Forsworn, and I’ll pay you for any information you bring me.” I folded an arm across my chest, holding my chin in my other hand. I needed to complete my contract, but at the moment, I could not think of a way to enter the Mine. I also needed coin.

“Very well.” I answered. “What can you tell me of the woman who was attacked?”

“Margret? She wasn’t from Markarth. The air about her _screamed_ ‘outsider’. Visitors to the city usually stay at the Silver-Blood Inn. It’s just off the main market, you’d have seen it when you entered the city.”

“I know where it is.” I told him. “What can you tell me of her attacker? This man Weylin, I presume?” He nodded.

“He was one of the smelter workers. I used to have a job down there myself, casting silver ingots. I never knew much about Weylin, except he lived in the Warrens, like all the other workers. It’s just under the road, when you turn left after exiting the shrine.”

“Will you be here through the night? Or should I meet you somewhere else?”

“No, we’ll meet here. I won’t be going anywhere, not for a while.”

“I will return once I have found sufficient evidence.” I told him. I walked up the ramp and exited the shrine. I went to the inn first and asked the innkeeper about Margret. He informed me that she had been staying in his best room, rented through until the end of the month. I rented it in turn, paying him a few extra septims to look the other way. He handed me the key and I went to the room to search it. I found the woman’s diary in the night table. Margret had been an agent of General Tullius’, sent to procure the deed to Cidhna Mine. She suspected that the Mine’s owner, Thonar Silver-Blood, was beginning to suspect that she was not who she claimed to be. I put the diary into my pack and exited the room. I asked one of the inn’s wait staff about the Silver-Blood family. They were all, apparently, avid supporters of Ulfric, as well as the owners of nearly everything in the Reach. They ran the Treasury House, which, from the explanation, I took to be a usurer’s place of sorts. The young man gave me directions to the place and I handed him a septim before leaving. As I exited the inn I was halted by a guard.

“You. I’ve seen you snooping around. Asking questions.”

“I did not realize that asking questions was illegal in Markarth.” I snarked.

“Back off. You don’t want to know what happens to troublemakers here.” He growled.

“I find myself curious. What _does_ happen to outsiders in Markarth?” I folded my arms across my chest and smiled. It was more a baring of teeth than a smile, however. The guard shook his head.

“This is your last warning, outsider. We keep the peace, here. Stay out of our business.” He stormed off, and I kept my eyes on him until he passed out of my sight. I was not very impressed. Someone – a well-paying someone – felt threatened by me. From what I had learned in Margret’s diary, I had a good idea of whom it might be. I climbed the stairs across from the inn and headed for the Treasury House. A young Reach woman was behind the counter within, and I approached her.

“The Treasury House is really just for patrons of the Silver-Blood family.” The woman informed me. “You don’t belong here.”

“I need to speak with your employer.” I replied, looking around. “Is he here?”

“I’m afraid he’s asked to not be disturbed. He has important business.”

“Business?” I smirked, raising a brow. I handed the young woman a hundred septims and she gave me a small smile.

“Go right on in.” She shook her head over her right shoulder, towards my left. I nodded my thanks and made my way further into the building. There was a set of stairs that lead to a door in the back, and I made my way up them. I opened the door, letting myself in.

“What are you doing here?” An older Nord man demanded, sitting at the table. “I told them no visitors.” I sat down across from him at the table.

“Someone in Markarth does not like ‘outsiders’.” I drawled. “First the Imperial woman, Margret, was slain. Poorly, might I add. And tonight, as I left the inn, I was approached by a guard. All for asking a few simple questions.”

“You mean the Imperial agent?” Thonar scoffed. “How many dogs is the Empire going to send after me?”

“That does not explain the guardsman you set on me.” I leaned back in the chair.

“That’s what happens around here when people don’t mind their business. You’re lucky you got a warning at all.” He sneered. “This is _my_ city. You Empire-lovers should learn to stay out of it.”

“For the Forsworn!” A voice called out, causing both Thonar and I to leap from our respective seats.

“What? By the Gods, Betrid!” Thonar drew a sword and ran down the stairs. I followed more slowly. Two of the servants had drawn weapons, and were attacking those within the Treasury House. The young woman I had spoken to was crouching behind the counter, tears streaking down her cheeks. A Nord woman had been slain, and the older, female servant was in the process of raising her as an undead thrall. I was rather impressed with her spellwork. It was not an easy spell to cast. Thonar cried out and launched himself at the woman, while I stayed out of the way. A Nord man came running down from the other side of the building, also brandishing a blade. He, at least, was wearing armor. However, body armor does not help when one catches an Ice Spike to one’s face. Thonar, having slain the woman, turned on the man. He was slashed by the man’s dagger across the face, but slew him regardless. Thonar, breathing heavily, dropped his sword and fell to his knees beside the Nord woman’s corpse. “My wife. They killed her.” I walked down the stairs and walked past him, turning back around to look down at him. “Damn Madanach. Damn his Forsworn backside.” I folded my arms across my chest, drumming my fingers against my arm.

“Tell me of Madanach and the Forsworn.”

“They’re my puppets. I have their ‘king’ rotting in Cidhna Mine. He was _supposed_ to keep them under control.” I raised my brows and stilled my fingers.

“You bargained his life for his army.”

“When their uprising was crushed, I had Madanach brought to me. He was a wild animal, but a useful one. I offered him a stay from execution if he used his influence to deal with any annoyances that came up. Competitors, agents, idiots.” I nodded to myself.

“Your own army of assassins.” I commented. “I shall see myself out.”

“You and Madanach are animals!” He shouted after me. “I’ll see you both rot in Cidhna Mine for this!” I left the Treasury House and walked across the bridge to the shrine of Talos. I highly suspected that Thonar was the one Madanach wished to see dead, and after what I had learned, I would not blame him if it were the case. The man was still within the shrine, I was pleased to see.

“Thonar Silver-Blood.” I stated, closing the door behind me. “He gave Madanach his life to be his hidden blade.”

“What? I didn’t think… we have to get out of here!” The man’s eyes were wide with fright as I walked down the ramp. “I have a wife, a child on the way –” I cast Invisibility on him.

“You should have thought, then.” I replied. “I believe that the guards are in his employ. Hide here, wait for a few hours, and then leave the Reach. Change your names.” Something was pressed into my hands, and from the weight, it was a fair amount of coin. I shook my head and pressed it back into his hands. “You will need it far more than I.” I guided him behind the shrine and pushed him into a crouch. I could not see him, but I could hear his heart pounding.

“You found out what I asked –” The door to the shrine creaked open and I held a finger to my lips before walking back to the base of the ramp. A handful of guards stood in the doorway.

“We warned you, but you just had to go and cause trouble. Now we have to pin all these recent murders on you. Silence witnesses. Work. Work. Work.” The guard looked around. “Where’s Eltrys?”

“I did not know that was the name of the man who hired me. I do not know where he is.”

“We had a nice little deal going between Thonar and Madanach until the two of you started snooping around. Well, you wanted to find the man responsible for those killings? You’ll have plenty of time with the King in Rags when you’re in Cidhna Mine.” I sighed. This was _not_ how I had wanted events to play out. However, if I slew these guards, there would simply be more waiting for me outside. I had no wish to go through Markarth and slay all the guards.

“Very well, then.” I held out my arms, palms facing each other.

* * *

 I was stripped of my pack and armor and given rags to wear in their stead. The guards then led me further into the mine and pushed me through a small hole in the floor. It was not a long drop, and I landed on my feet. I landed in a small room with a cot and a bucket in one of the corners. An Orcish woman was waiting for me.

“All right, prisoner. Eyes front. You’re in Cidhna Mine, now, and we expect you to earn your keep. There’s no resting your hide in a cell in _this_ prison. Here, you work. You’ll mine ore until you start throwing up silver bars. You got it?” I remained silent. “Good. Now get down there.” She gave me a shove as I walked past. Looking back, I saw that someone from above the hole had lowered a rope ladder for her to climb out. There were tunnels leading off from the main room at the bottom of the ramp, where a Reach man sat beside a fire and an Orcish man stood beside a cell door. Behind that door was where I suspected Madanach was. There would be no way to sneak past the Orc, however. I wondered if I might not be able to seduce him… but if he held actual loyalty to Madanach, that would do nothing, and I did not intend to remain for very long.

“What are you in for, new blood?” I looked towards the man seated beside the fire, who had spoken.

“Asking too many questions.” I replied with a smirk. “I need to see Madanach.” The man’s brows rose.

“If you’re asking that, you’re the new lifer. Tough luck, friend. Those guards sold you out but good.” I nodded in agreement. “No one talks to Madanach, I’m afraid. Not without getting past Borkul the Beast.” I flicked my eyes over his shoulder to the Orc, then back to him. He nodded. “You _don’t_ want to talk to Borkul the Beast. Heard he ripped a man’s arm off and beat him to death with it. He’s old-fashioned like that.”

“Then I suppose it is a good thing I am not a man.” I continued past him towards the Orc. I caught the man’s shake of his head as I walked past.

“The new meat. So soft. Tender.” The Orc leered at me. “What was it like, killing your first one, huh?” I smiled, remembering the event.

“The best day of my life, in actuality.” The Orc’s leer turned into a wide smile.

“A true killer, like me. The Gods put us here to fill their halls with souls. You’ll fit in fine down here.”

“I have need to speak with Madanach.” I informed him. The Orc rose a brow.

“You want to talk to the King in Rags? Fine. But first you got to pay the toll.” I folded my arms across my chest and waited for him to continue. “How about you get me a shiv? Not that I need one, but it’s nice to have in case I need to do some ‘shaving’.” He chuckled darkly.

“Let me through.” I growled, glaring up at him.

“Those eyes…” He said softly. “All right, killer, go on through.” He opened the door. I made to walk through it, but he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t try anything. Madanach knows more than you think.” I shook the Orc’s hand off and walked through the tunnel. At the end was a room-like cave, complete with a bed and desk. A man I presumed to be Madanach sat at the desk, writing a letter. A Magelight hovered above his head.

“Well, well. Look at you.” The man spoke, turning his chair to look at me. The Nords have turned you into an animal. A wild beast caged up and left to go mad. So, my fellow beast, what do you want? Answers about the Forsworn? Revenge for trying to have you killed?”

“I apologize for the delay.” Madanach rose a brow. “The Night Mother has heard your pleas and relayed them to me.”

“The Dark Brotherhood is only getting here _now_?” Madanach fumed.

“There have been… staffing issues, of late.” I admitted.

“The only way you could get in here was getting thrown in? Really?” He asked. Were I younger, I might have flushed.

“It was the simplest way.” I demurred. “A contract has been asked for, and I am here.”

“Much good it does.” He scoffed. “How do you plan on getting out?”

“This is not the first time I have been somewhere deemed ‘inescapable’.” I answered. “There will be a way out.” Madanach studied me.

“You’re not exactly what I’d think of as an assassin.” He commented.

“I do not see what bearing that has on our discussion.” I folded my arms across my chest.

“What do you know about the Forsworn?” He asked.

“Very little. I have no argument with your people if yours have none with me. Why do you ask?”

“You’re one of us now, don’t you see? A slave. The boot of the Nord stepping on your throat. Maybe if you understood that, I could help you.” My lip curled.

“I know far more about being a _slave_ then you ever will.” I spat. “I _was_ a slave, a _true_ slave, for nearly as long as you have been alive. You know _nothing_ of slavery.” Madanach’s brows rose.

“That mightn’t have been the best of terms.” He conceded. “It’s not quite slavery, what my people go through under the Nord’s thumbs, but almost.”

“You wish something of me, other than the contract. What is it?” I demanded.

“Straight to the point, then. There’s a man named Braig inside these mines. Besides me, he’s been here the longest. Tell him I sent you. Ask him why he’s here. I want you to know how widespread the injustice of Markarth is.”

“You wish to win me over, to fight on your side.” I observed. “Why? I am here to accept and carry out a contract.”

“I have a way out.” He confessed, and I rose a brow. “I have for some time.”

“Then why remain?” I pressed. “It seems foolish, to me.”

“With next to no allies on the outside, and without a guarantee that Thonar would end up dead?” Madanach shook his head and looked away. “That would have been foolish.”

“I thought it was him.” I put my chin in my hand. “You seek the Dark Brotherhood as an ally?”

“I _did_ , once. I can’t say I’m very impressed with your performance just yet.” He growled.

“Unless you wish for me to slay your companions, there is little I can do to ‘impress’ you.” I pointed out.

“Don’t do that.” He barked.

“I did not say that I would.” I replied. “I will go and speak to Braig.” Madanach nodded and returned to his writing. I left the cell and asked Borkul where to find Braig. The Orc pointed towards one of the tunnels. I followed the tunnel to its end, where I found a man mining.

“Don’t reach for a shiv around me, or we’ll both regret it.” The man called over his shoulder.

“Madanach asked that I speak with you.” I informed him, staying a few paces away from him.

“He wants me to tell you my story, huh? Everyone in Cidhna Mine has a tale… let’s hear yours first. When was the first time you felt chains around your wrists?”

“Young,” I snarled, “and that is all I will say on the matter.”

“What about a family? Anyone waiting for you on the outside?” He pressed. He had stopped mining, and was now leaning against the rocky wall.

“None of blood.” I had made sure of that, long ago.

“I had a daughter, once.” He stated. “She’d be twenty-three this year. Married to some hot-blooded silver worker, or maybe on her own learning the herb trade.” His voice hardened as he continued. “The Nords didn’t care who was or wasn’t involved in the Forsworn Uprising. I had spoken to Madanach once, and that was enough.” The man sighed. “But my little Aethra didn’t want to see her Papa leave her. She begged the Jarl to take her instead. And after they made me watch as her head rolled of the block, they threw me in here anyway, to dig up their silver.” His voice broke as he nearly sobbed, and I decided in that moment that I would slay the Jarl of Markarth, contract or no. “Every family in the Reach has a story like mine. There are no innocent onlookers in this struggle. Just the guilty and the dead.” Braig took up his pickaxe once more and turned his back to me, returning to work. I stormed through the tunnel back to Madanach.

“How many children were slain when the Nords retook Markarth?” I demanded upon my return. Madanach turned once more from his writing to face me.

“You’ve spoken to Braig.” He observed.

“You did not answer my question.” I snapped.

“Honestly? I don’t know. It wasn’t just us that Ulfric –”

“Ulfric Stormcloak?” I interrupted.

“Yes. You didn’t know?” He asked.

“No, I did not.” I curled my hands into fists and forced them to my side.

“Imagine hearing a story like that, over and over. Each time a different family. Each time a different injustice.”

“Tell me that there is someone in these mines that I am allowed to kill.” I could feel my fingernails digging into my palms.

“As a matter of fact, there is.” Madanach smiled and clasped his hands in his lap. “Grisvar the Unlucky.” I turned on my heel and left Madanach once more. There was only one tunnel through which I had not yet gone, and it was down this one that I walked.

“Which of you is Grisvar?” I demanded of the pair of men. The Nord leaning against the wall slowly raised his hand. “Leave us.” I snapped at the Reach man, who fled nearly before the words had left my mouth.

“Wh-what do you need?” Grisvar stammered.

“I am extremely outraged at the moment. I need a means of which to release my anger, and Madanach guided me in your direction.” The man relaxed slightly upon hearing my words.

“I think I might be able to help with that.” He levered himself off of the wall and stepped towards me.

“More than you may think.” I answered. I raised a fist and punched him in the gut. My anger combined with my vampiric strength nearly threw him the length of the room. Grisvar fell to the ground, winded. I walked over to him and hit him in the ribs with my shin. I felt one of his ribs crack and he was thrown into the wall. “This is rather boring.” I commented. “I should have expected this, seeing as you have been incarcerated for Y’ffre knows how long.” I considered dragging it out further. I could, quite literally, tear him limb from limb if I wished to. However, doing so would attract far more attention than I needed. I grabbed Grisvar’s ankle and pulled him off of the wall so he wall lying on his back. I raised my foot and brought it downwards, crushing his chest. I left, every other step making a small squishing sound. The man I had sent out of the tunnel stood beside the man seated at the fire. I was still angry. I would need to fight something that was not so easily slain if I were to completely calm down. I could feel the eyes of the three men in the main chamber of the mine watching me as I returned to Madanach. “Grisvar has been slain.” Madanach eyed my bloodied foot.

“Do you need healing?” He asked.

“It is not my blood. Also, if I had, I could have taken care of it myself.” I could hear someone approaching from behind and I turned to face the tunnel entrance.

“Boss, Odvan says that she killed Grisvar.” Borkul reported.

“I told her she could.” Madanach replied.

“She – _you_ – stomped a hole in his chest.” Borkul looked over at me.

“I am aware of that fact.” I folded my arms across my chest. The Orc looked me over, perhaps reassessing his opinion of me.

“You’re all right.” He stated, a small smile upon his lips.

“Gather the others. It’s time we left this place.” Madanach ordered. Borkul saluted, fist to chest, and left. Madanach rose from his desk and extinguished the Magelight. He was a few inches taller than I was, which did not surprise me. Because of my short stature I tended to be underestimated, which suited my purposes. Madanach gestured for me to lead the way through the tunnel, which I did. There were a handful of men waiting in the main chamber. Odvan or Borkul must have related how I had killed Grisvar, for the Reach men all took at least one step back upon seeing me. Borkul, however, did not. He shot me another grin.

“What’s going on, Madanach?” The man who had been sitting by the fire asked. “You wouldn’t have old Grisvar killed unless you weren’t planning on needing him.”

“My brothers, we have been here long enough. It’s time to leave Cidhna Mine and continue our fight against the Nords. Through the gate just beside my quarters is a tunnel. A tunnel that leads right through the old dwarven ruins of Markarth, into the city.” Madanach looked around the room, meeting the gaze of each of his men. “What do you say, my brothers?”

“The Reach belongs to the Forsworn!” They chorused. Madanach smiled broadly and looked over at me.

“I say you’ve earned an early pardon. Let’s go.” I followed immediately after Madanach, who led us towards his hidden tunnel. There was a dwarven metal door past the gate.

“Have you ever tested the tunnel?” I asked.

“I know where it leads.” Madanach replied, sounding affronted.

“I do not doubt that. I ask if you have cleared it of any of its inhabitants.”

“Ah. No, I have not.”

“Then I shall go first. Wait for a minute, then follow.”

“I didn’t realize we’d bonded so well.” Madanach tried to nudge me with his elbow, but I moved away from him.

“We have done nothing of the sort. You still have a contract to give me.” I pushed open the dwarven door. “One minute.” Madanach nodded and I closed the door behind me. I cast Invisibility upon myself with one hand, and summoned a Bound Bow with the other before proceeding through the tunnel. There was layer upon layer of spider webs, which did not surprise me. I made my way down the tunnel, listening carefully for the spiders and whatever else lived within the tunnel. There were three spiders, who were easily dispatched. Large spiders were nearly as easy to kill as small ones, if one was a decent archer. An arrow to the eye will kill anything, no matter its size. Madanach and the others caught up with me not long after. “The point of you waiting for a minute was for you to _remain_ a minute behind me.” I informed him, dispelling both my Invisibility and Bow.

“If you had reached Kaie before I did, however, she might have attacked you.” He replied.

“Do not walk in front of me. That applies to all of you.” I raised my voice so the others would hear.

“Yes, ma’am.” One of them answered. We encountered a pair of dwarven machines. I had read of them, but never before seen one. I called a Thunderbolt spell to hand, and shot it at the one on my left. Thankfully, I did not miss, but it did not kill the thing. The construct advanced upon me and I rolled out of the range of its blade, calling another spell to hand. Once I was standing again, I threw another Thunderbolt at it. The construct collapsed, falling into several pieces. The other men had taken care of the other construct with little trouble. The seven of us continued through the tunnel, encountering no more enemies. A Reach woman waited for us at the end of the tunnel.

“I’ve brought what you asked for.” She gestured with one hand towards a large satchel on the floor.

“Good work.” Madanach embraced the woman while the other men went through the larger satchel. The woman, whom I assumed must be the Kaie Madanach had mentioned earlier, handed me a small satchel. “Kaie recovered all the things the Nords stole from you. You’d better get ready before we head out into the city.” I breathed a sigh of relief at seeing my armor again.

“Thank you.” I said to the woman as I dressed. I had long ago been broken of any modesty I once had. Removing the rags and dressing in my armor affected me not in the least. I heard someone draw in a sharp breath when I removed the ‘shirt’ I wore, and I assumed that they had seen my scars. Or, perhaps, the brand upon my right shoulder blade.

“You weren’t exaggerating.” I heard Madanach murmur.

“I do, on occasion, lie. However, I avoid exaggeration wherever and whenever I can.” I informed him. I suspected that he did not mean for me to hear him.

“Here, take this.” I turned to look at Madanach, my ragged shirt still in my hands. “It’s blessed with the old magicks. Something to remember me by.” I took the offered garments and held the armor up to my chest.

“Whomever made this intended for it to go to someone with a larger frame than mine.” I observed. “I’ll not be able to wear it ’til I have it altered.” I put the gift into my pack and slipped into my leathers. I let out a sigh and ran my hands over the leathers before strapping the armor pieces on. “Now. Tell me who you summoned me for.” Kaie frowned at me, then turned her eyes to Madanach.

“Not just yet.” Madanach demurred. “That depends on who we find outside.”

“Very well. If we encounter any guards on our way out, which I suspect we may, we will not have time to speak further. Where will I find you after?”

“Druadach Redoubt. It’s northeast of Markarth. Do you have a map?” I handed it to him, and he marked the location. “I’ll see you there in a few days’ time, then.”

“If that is what you wish.” I took the map back. “Or, I could simply travel with you.”

“Your name in Markarth would be ruined.” Madanach warned me.

“I cannot see myself returning to this place outside of business.” I replied.

“All right.” Madanach bowed his head for a moment. “Let’s get going, then.”

* * *

 The eight of us slaughtered our way through Markarth. Any who did not raise a blade were unharmed and allowed to flee. This was the case with most everyone outside of the guards and what remained of the Silver-Bloods and their associates. It was still dark out, and my hood was up, so unless I returned to Markarth in the same armor it was unlikely that I would be arrested. Madanach made a point of entering the Treasury House and slaying all those within who raised a blade. I did not see the Reach woman from the last time I had been there, which called Eltrys to mind. For a moment I wondered if he had escaped, then shrugged it off. It made no difference whether or not I concerned myself over it. We made camp a few hours outside Markarth. Even though the men had not been inactive whilst in prison, they were still unused to such physical labor. It had been years since any of them had walked this distance, or for this amount of time. Kaie and I took the first watch, as we were the least tired.

“What did you mean?” Kaie asked me, once the men had settled down. “Back in the mine, when you asked who he summoned you for.”

“If Madanach sees fit to tell you then you will know, and no sooner than that.” I replied. “My business is with him alone.” She did not seem to like my answer, but she did not pry further. The night passed, and Kaie woke the two men who were to take the next watch before retiring for the night. I was still not tired, so I did not. I _could_ have slept, but I chose not to. I could remain awake for days upon end. At the end of a week, I would be as tired as a non-vampire would after having stayed awake for two days. At the end of said week I could have a night’s rest and be fully functional in the morn. I did not need more sleep to balance the time in which I had been awake. It made travelling alone simpler.

“Thank you for your discretion.” Madanach said. I looked over my shoulder to see that he was awake and standing behind me.

“Late I may be, but were I indiscreet I would have been dead many times afore now.” I scoffed, looking skyward.

“Yes, well, thank you all the same.” I remained silent. “She’s my daughter.”

“You do not wish for your family to know of your not-quite-legal dealings.” I hypothesised.

“No, we have quite a different take on the Brotherhood than the rest of the world.” He replied.

“Thonar Silver-Blood is dead. I assume it was for him that you contacted me.” I commented.

“Yes.” Madanach lowered himself onto the grass beside me. “From what Thonar said, it sounds like his brother Thongvor was killed earlier.”

“I would not know.” I replied. “I was never introduced to the man.”

“I wanted you to kill the Silver-Bloods, and they’re all dead.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It looks like you came all the way out here for nothing.”

“On the contrary, I learned a great deal.” I countered. “My cover for coming to Skyrim was to join the Stormcloaks. However, knowing what I do now, that is no longer my intention.”

“Would you kill _him_ for me?” Madanach asked, and I smiled.

“Perhaps. Surrounded by guards as he no doubt will be, it will not be an easy contract.”

“And a great deal of coin.” Madanach conceded. “What about Igmund?”

“Who is Igmund?” I looked over at him.

“The Jarl of Markarth.” He informed me.

“I had already planned on doing so.” I admitted. “After learning that he condones the murder of children, I have decided that he no longer deserves to live.”

“I can live with that.” Madanach looked up at the stars. “I never realized how beautiful they were.”

“That is what happens when something is taken from you. You do not realize how much you miss a thing until it is gone.”

“I didn’t think you would hear what I said earlier.” Madanach confessed. “About exaggerating.” He explained, once I raised a brow at him.

“I thought as much.” I looked back at the stars.

“That brand... that’s Daedric lettering, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Which you are not.” I replied.

“Those were only used in Morrowind, when the slave trade was still legal. Which means you’re a lot older than you look.”

“I am three hundred and fifty years old, if you must know.” I told him. “Nearly three hundred and fifty one, now.”

“How long?” He asked quietly.

“The better part of fifty years.” I replied, just as quietly. We sat in silence for a time.

“I can’t believe – I never even asked you your name.” I saw Madanach shake his head out of the corner of my eye.

“Lycoris.” I heard something move in the brush and quickly cast Detect Life, only to see that it was a fox. “You should rest more. There is a long walk ahead of us.” I told him, rising to my feet.

“And you?” He asked. “Are you going to rest?”

“You need not worry for me. I will be perfectly fine.” Once I found something to eat, but I need not tell him that. Madanach returned to his bedroll and I slipped out of camp.

* * *

 We pressed on in the morning. Madanach had informed me that there was no time schedule for Igmund’s demise.

“Honestly, I don’t really care how long it takes. With the civil war and all, it might not be a bad thing for him to be in charge. Better him than one of Ulfric’s supporters.”

“Then he will live, for the time being. Tell me when you wish him slain, and it will be done.” I promised. “I will be in the Reach for some time yet. I have yet to conclude all of my business in the area.”

“How will I get a hold of you?” Madanach asked.

“That… is a good question.” I conceded. “I suppose you could send a courier after me, but I cannot guarantee that I will receive the message quickly.”

“Where do you plan on going after here?” He pressed.

“Once my business in the Reach is concluded? I have a few plans, but nothing concrete. Why?”

“If I know where you’re going, it’ll be easier to send a courier after you.” He pointed out.

“I will find myself in Solitude at one point or another.” I informed him. I then sped up, which meant that he would either cease speaking or pick up his own pace. He chose the former. I ended up walking beside Borkul.

“If you can kill a man as easily as you killed Grisvar, how’d you end up in Cidhna Mine?” He asked.

“I had a need to speak with Madanach.” I answered. “Also, slaying all the guards of Markarth would not endear me to its people.” He laughed.

“The Forsworn don’t look at the Brotherhood the same way everyone else does.” He told me.

“Madanach said much the same thing.” I replied. “What of you? Do you count yourself among the Forsworn?”

“Aye, I do.” He nodded. “Before you leave the Redoubt you should get someone to teach you the call signs. Might save your life out here.” I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. I did not know what he was talking about.

“Perhaps I shall.”

“The Dark Brotherhood is damn near worshipped by the Forsworn. I don’t understand a lot of it, but someone’ll be able to explain it to you, if you ask.” He continued. “Something about their gods.”

“You call yourself Forsworn, but you do not worship their gods?” I queried.

“I don’t have to worship their gods to be Forsworn.” It was not long after that we arrived at the Redoubt. It was little more than a cave, but for them, it was home. I understood better than most would have. After I had slain the family I had been born into, who had sold me into slavery, I had been taken in by a coven of vampires. I had been turned at fifty-eight years. For three quarters of a century we lived in peace, keeping away from villages and farms. Another coven slaughtered the occupants of a nearby village. The local lord hired a group of mercenaries to slay any vampires they found in the area. My coven-sister and I had been hunting, which saved our lives. When we returned we saw the mercenaries still there. Their numbers had been reduced greatly, and they had been drinking. She and I slew them all. My coven-sister was slain, and I was wounded. After healing myself and taking a few days’ rest I murdered the lordling in his home. I was one hundred and thirty three years old then. That night I was approached by the Dark Brotherhood. A cry rose from within the camp, and I shook myself out of my reverie.

“The Reach-King’s back!” Madanach was well-loved by his people, even with the time he had been gone.

“He’s brought an outsider.” I heard a few murmur. I held my tongue. Madanach was still a client, and I had no desire to antagonize him or his kin.

“Da trusts her.” Kaie stated. “That’s good enough for me.” The ones who had seemed the most ill at ease with my presence were mollified by her words. A few of the Forsworn handed out alcoholic beverages, something they called jenever. A fire was lit, a spit prepared, and a cow was slaughtered. I coated my glass with magick, chilling the jenever as I watched the Forsworn celebrate the return of their King. I was leaning against a tree, away from the celebrations.

“What’s such a pretty little killer like you doing sitting all by yourself?” Borkul asked, leaning on the other side of the tree.

“Observing.” I answered. Madanach himself was not dancing, though many others were. He sat on a log, laughing and drinking. Occasionally he would look skyward, smiling broadly. “I have not been to a celebration such as this in… a very long time.”

“You don’t drink much?”

“Not only that. I do not tend to socialize.” I told him. I looked him over out of the corner of my eye. He was well-built, especially for an Orsimer. Not many would call them attractive, by any definition of the word, but I had yet to be disappointed by one.

“That’s a damn shame.”

“I am of a mind to rectify that. For tonight, at the very least.” I tossed back the last of my jenever. “I simply need to find a partner who will be up to the task.” Chilling my hand with a hint of ice magick, I took a step toward him and ran a finger down his chest. “What say you?” Moving quickly, he grabbed my upper arms and slammed me against the tree. I smiled and ran my tongue along my teeth. “Come now. Surely you can do better than that.” Borkul grinned and pulled me away from the tree. He spun me about and guided me toward one of the many tents and pushed me in, following closely.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Child death warning. Only mentioned in passing, but it's still there.

Once I completed my business with Eola, I left the Reach. I fingered Namira’s ring where it lay upon my finger. I had not expected the Prince to speak with me. I walked along the road past Karthwasten when I heard a voice.

_“Listener.”_

“Mother?” I came to an immediate halt. I did not know what the Brotherhood’s stance on Daedra worship was, and I hoped I was not about to be reprimanded.

 _“I have no qualms with Namira and her ilk, so long as I come first.”_ Mother’s voice soothed. _“My Keeper is in Skyrim. He has left Dawnstar and is heading to Falkreath. You will find him near Whiterun in a few days’ time if you are swift.”_

“If I may ask, Mother, what is in Falkreath?” Her dry, rasping laughter echoed in my head.

 _“The last remaining Sanctuary in Tamriel.”_ I drew in a breath. _“Do not raise your hopes so, child. They have fallen far from what you have known. You will know my Keeper when you see him. He is… easy to spot. Do you remember the Words?”_

“Darkness rises when silence dies.” There was a sense of approval. I received a mental image of a red-haired Imperial man travelling with a horse and cart.

 _“Very good. Do hurry, child. I would so hate for you to miss him.”_ I waited a minute, and then two, but there were no further instructions. This was the first I had heard from her in months. I no longer received contracts for more than one province at a time, not like when I would go to her statue in Bravil. Back then, I received contracts from all over Tamriel. But now we were far removed from what we had once been. As I sped down the road, I pondered why Mother had not told me about this Sanctuary in Falkreath. Did they bear her disapproval? Perhaps the Keeper would be able to tell me more.

* * *

 My plan had been to pass through Rorikstead and walk across the field to Whiterun, not stopping for anything. However, that changed when I heard a child cry out.

“No! Stop, you’re hurting me!” I turned on my heel and followed the voices.

“The both of you are absolutely useless!” A man ground out. “Get your ass home and do your damn chores!”

“Y-yes, Papa.” A little girl with tear-streaked cheeks ran past me. A few more steps brought me face-to-face with an older man.

“Don’t ever have children.” The man growled. “They’re good for nothing little shits.”

“Children are not meant to be _used_.” I spat.

“I’d have gotten rid of the things a long time ago if I could.” He continued as though I had said nothing. I clenched my hands into fists and looked skyward. The sun was setting, yes, but we were standing in almost the middle of town. As much as Ionged to, I could not simply reach out and snap his neck. I took a great deal of pride in the fact that I had never once, in two hundred and seventeen years, been caught committing a murder. I took a deep breath and walked away. He was still speaking, but I could not bring myself to care. I went and sought out his daughter, instead. I found her by the scent of her tears, hiding within a tree.

“You must be rather good at this.” I commented, looking up at her.

“Who’re you?” She sniffled.

“No one of importance.” I waved a hand. “I was passing through Rorikstead when I heard you and… your father.”

“He’s always like that. And Britte is just as bad.” I raised a brow. It was unlikely that Britte was her birth mother, given her use of a first name.

“Your stepmother?” I queried, and she scoffed.

“My sister. She’s two years older than me.”

“Why do they treat you so?” I saw her frown and lower her head.

“I killed Mama when I was born.”

“You did no such thing.” I told her. “Such things are out of your control.”

“That’s what Jouane says, too. He’s teaching me magick. He says I’m good at it.” I nodded to myself. At least the girl had _someone_ who treated her humanely. “I keep hoping that someday the Forsworn will come through and kidnap me. They can’t treat me any worse than _they_ do.”

“I have met the Forsworn. They would treat you far better.” I confided. Her eyes widened as they met mine.

“Really? Everyone says that they don’t like you if you’re not one of them.”

“They dislike Nords. Ulfric Stormcloak in particular.” My lip curled upward. “In fact, I cannot say that I am fond of the man either, after what I learned from them.” I shook my head. I would deal with _him_ another day. “What is your name, child?”

“I’m Sissel. How long are you staying in Rorikstead?”

“I am passing through. I received word that my Brother is in Skyrim, and I am meeting him near Whiterun.”

“Oh.” Her voice was quiet. “At least _someone_ has a nice family.”

“Continue practicing your magick. You can never know when you may need it.”

“Goodbye. Thank you for talking with me.” My heart was heavy as I walked away. Surely, Mother would not mind if I were to delay meeting with the Keeper for a few hours…

* * *

 Sissel’s father was slain, drank dry of blood and the Black Hand burnt into his chest, while her sister met with an unfortunate… accident. I waited, invisible, long enough for the father to be found, before leaving. I passed through the fields, seen only by beasts. I reached Whiterun before the sun rose. The guards would not permit me entry to the city, claiming it was too late at night. I sneered and walked back down to the road. A Khajiit caravan was settling in just outside the gate. I sold a few small things, and almost purchased a small handful of gemstones before changing my mind. What use did I have for such things?

“I am looking for a red-haired Imperial man travelling along the roads. He has a cart drawn by a horse.” The Khajiit frowned at me.

“We passed such a man on the road, yes. He broke a wheel just north of here.” He pointed towards the road. “This one thinks your friend is touched by the MadGod.”

“What led you to that conclusion?” I asked.

“This one heard him speaking to the box in the cart.” Another Khajiit spoke. “He spoke as though there was someone inside it.” The Keeper had Mother? _The Night Mother was in Skyrim?_ I could have danced with joy.

“I will bear that in mind. Thank you for the warning.” While I kept from dancing, I could not keep the smile from my lips as I headed up the road. As I the foundered wagon came into sight I laughed aloud. There was a man in a jester’s suit arguing with a taller Imperial man.

“Cicero just needs a little bit of your time!” The man wailed. I stopped and studied the man. Was this Mother’s Keeper?

“I don’t care! Just leave us alone!” The other man fumed and stormed off. I walked slowly towards the man in the jester suit.

“I was told to come and find you.” I told him, still standing a few feet away from him. If he was an assassin, however, he would be able to cover the distance quickly enough. This was a test, of sorts. The man spun about to face me.

“Cicero only sent a letter to tell anyone he was coming.” He studied me in turn. “Did _she_ send you?” He spat. I raised a brow.

“I think we are thinking of two separate women. I know nothing of a letter.” I looked at the box in the cart. “Darkness rises when silence dies.” I had been correct. In a moment, the man was at my side, a blade against my throat.

“Who are you? How do you know those words?”

“My name is Lycoris. I have been a member of the Dark Brotherhood for two hundred and seventeen years, and Listener for two hundred.”

“Lies! Where were you when Bravil fell?”

“Cheydinhal. We were attacked by the Thalmor.”

“Where have you been all these years?” He demanded.

“I fought in the Great War, although it was for naught.” I scoffed. “I have received instructions from Mother from time to time, and carried them out. I had thought that I was the last of us.”

“Wait.” He removed the blade and frowned. “Are you… _the_ Lycoris? The one who fought in the Oblivion Crisis?”

“I am. I was recruited by Lucien Lachance himself, in 3E 416. I worked my way through the ranks until the Mathieu Bellamont debacle, late in 432.”

“You know far too much of our history to be anyone but Family.” He murmured. “And you know the Binding Words. Why are you here now? Cicero would have liked to know about you before.”

“Mother only informed me of your presence two days ago.” I answered. “I had been in the Reach after taking care of a contract when she spoke to me.”

“Mother knows what’s best.” He sighed. “Humble Cicero, at your service.” He bowed.

“You need your cart fixed. Am I to assume that he,” I jerked my head towards the farmhouse, “did not wish to aid you?”

“The Listener assumes rightly.” Cicero stated.

“Do _not_ call me that.” I hissed. “Not where others can hear.” Cicero clapped a hand over his mouth and nodded vigorously. “It is late, and if I were to go and pound on the door he would be even more unwilling to lend his aid. We will rest for the night, and speak with him come morn.” Cicero had a tent in the cart, and I assisted him in setting it up just off the road. I lit a fire as he took care of the horse.

“Is the – is Mistress hungry?” Cicero asked.

“I do not eat your food unless I must. I require other sustenance.” Mad he might be, but Cicero was sharp as a whip.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, tilting his head to expose his throat.

“I fed earlier.” I told him, shaking my head.

“Is there nothing poor Cicero can do?”

“I require information. Who is the ‘she’ you mentioned earlier?”

“Astrid.” He seethed. “Calls herself _leader_ , but what she leads can barely be called Family. She has abandoned the old ways, abandoned the Tenets, and abandoned Mother.”

“Mother told me not to raise my hopes; that they had fallen far from what I remember.” I told him.

“Mother knows best, she does.” Cicero nodded sagely. “Cicero does not want to go see her, not really, but they are all that remains.”

“How many does she have?”

“Cicero knows of seven, counting her _._ Arnbjorn, werewolf, Astrid’s husband. Nazir, Redguard, almost a Speaker. Gabriella, Dunmer mage. Festus Krex, Breton mage. Veezara, Argonian. Babette, Breton un-child. Like you, Mistress.”

“The Argonian, is he Shadowscale?” If he was, he would be the last. Or one of the last, at the very least.

“Cicero does not know. He has not met them himself, you see. He has only heard of them through Astrid’s letter.” I nodded.

“Well enough, I suppose. Get some sleep. I will speak to the farmer in the morn.”

“Loreius. Vantus Loreius.” Cicero informed me.

“Get to sleep.”

* * *

 It took some persuasion, but eventually Loreius repaired Cicero’s cart. I paid the farmer, and we were on our way.

“Mistress is travelling with Cicero?” He asked shyly.

“I do not think that Mother would have informed me of your presence were I not intended to. So yes, I am.” Cicero smiled and nudged the horse into motion. He was a very talkative fellow, and if he was not talking he was singing.

“Ho ho ho, he he he, break that lute across my knee, and if the bard should choose to fight, why then I’ll set his clothes alight!”

“Cicero, I am unsure of whether or not we should tell Astrid that I am the Listener.” I finally spoke.

“Why wouldn’t you?” He asked.

“Even with the Binding Words, you nearly cut my throat. Not that I would have let you, but the point still stands. Astrid does not even know of them. We would have no proof for her. If she should decide to attack, I do not like the thought of fighting Family. Even if they have fallen so far.” Cicero frowned. “We should wait for a time. I am not turning my back on Mother, but neither one of us will be any good to her if we are dead.”

“Cicero admits you have a point.” He giggled. “Get it? Point?”

“I do. But do you understand?”

“Yes. Cicero understands.” He sighed.

* * *

  _“What is the music of life?”_ Cicero and I had arrived at the Falkreath Sanctuary, and waited at the door. I drew a blade and cut open my right palm, spreading the blood over my hand like paint.

“Silence, my brother.” We both answered at once. I placed my bloodied hand upon the door’s representation of one, within the skull.

 _“Welcome home.”_ The door slid open.

“Why did you do that?” Cicero asked. I raised my brows.

“I was wondering why you did _not_ do it. By doing such, I will never have to answer the door’s question again when I return. Simply placing my palm upon the door will open it.”

“Oh, Cicero didn’t know! Cicero will have to do that the next time he enters.” I healed my palm and Cicero preceded me into the Sanctuary. We had decided to tell Astrid and the others that I was a new recruit that Cicero had brought with him. It had been a very long time since I had been such, but I was used to playing at being something I was not.

“Astrid, we have company.” I heard a man call. We had only just descended the first set of stairs, and so I hazarded a guess that it was the werewolf. “There’s two of them.”

“That’s odd.” I heard a woman say. “The letter basically said he was coming alone.”

“But he didn’t _actually_ say that, did he?” A second man asked. Cicero and I continued down the second set of stairs into the main room. Falkreath Sanctuary was little more than a glorified cavern, unlike the Cheydinhal one. I was not put off, however. I was _home._

“You must be Cicero.” A blonde Nord woman greeted us. “I’m Astrid, the leader of our Sanctuary. Welcome home.” She smiled.

“Yes, yes. Cicero.” He gave her a tight smile.

“Lycoris.” I extended a hand in greeting. I was expecting her to shake my hand, but to my surprise and delight, she pressed her palm against my own, in the Brotherhood’s greeting. “Cicero recruited me.” Astrid’s smile tightened.

“Did he, now? Well, welcome to the Family, dear. The Night Mother is still outside, I take it?”

“Yes. Cicero didn’t think that he and Lycoris would be able to bring it in all by ourselves.” It had taken me ages to convince him that we would need aid. He still did not appear to like the idea, however. A Nord with white-blond hair and a tall Redguard man stood a ways behind her. Arnbjorn and Nazir, then.

“Would the two of you,” she looked towards the men, “be willing to lend a hand?” Arnbjorn sniffed.

“She’s a vampire.” He stated.

“‘She’ is standing right here, werewolf.” I replied. Astrid shot me a look and I tapped my nose at her. I had smelled him as soon as I had entered. If Cicero had not told me I would have known regardless. “‘She’ has no intent on harming any here, so long as no harm comes to her first.”

“Babette will be glad for the company, I’m sure.” Astrid stated. “Husband, behave yourself.” He grunted. “Cicero, Lycoris, this is Arnbjorn and Nazir.” She gestured towards each in turn. “Nazir, I’ll need to speak with you when you return. We need to figure out who to send on the Aretino contract.”

“That will not be necessary.” I broke in. “I took care of it.”

“Oh, really?” Astrid’s brows rose.

“I was in Windhelm recently and heard the rumors. I went to see if the boy was taking care of himself – which he was not – and he told me of the contract. He thought I was an assassin. I could not bring myself to tell him otherwise, and so I accepted the contract.”

“Who was it for?” She asked.

“Grelod the Kind, the woman who ran the orphanage in Riften.” Which reminded me, I had promised that old man that I would look into the mercenaries at the mine, and I had forgotten. “I had only gone to see if it truly was as horrible as he claimed. When I learned that he had spoken the truth, I slew her.”

“What was the payment?” Astrid pressed.

“A plate. He claimed it was a family heirloom.” I told her.

“All’s well that ends well, I suppose.” She sighed. “Let’s get the Night Mother indoors, shall we?” Astrid remained indoors, and Nazir, Arnbjorn, Cicero and I went to collect the Night Mother. Cicero cut open his palm for re-entry.

“I’m probably going to regret asking this, but why did you do that?” Nazir asked.

“The door will know Cicero now. Cicero will never have to answer the question again.”

“Come here.” I called Cicero over and healed his hand.

“I didn’t know that.” Nazir murmured.

“Cicero knows you didn’t. You wouldn’t have asked if you had.” He replied smugly. The four of us carried the box that held the Night Mother through the Sanctuary, to a room with a stained glass window looking down on the main area. There were a few small benches in the room, making me think of a chapel. “Oh, yes, this will be very well for Mother.” Cicero hummed, looking about the room. Arnbjorn and Nazir both looked at him oddly. I ignored them.

“Will you need anything further from us?” I asked Cicero.

“No, no, Cicero will be able to do the rest himself.” He waved a hand. “You should go and meet your new Family members.” I waited for the other men to leave before following them from the room.

* * *

 My new Family did not seem to know what to make of me. On the one hand, I was Family. Astrid had accepted Cicero’s ‘recruitment’ of me. On the other hand, it had been Cicero who had ‘recruited’ me.

“I do not understand how you didn’t kill him on the way here.” Nazir stated. “I have no patience for people who won’t shut up.”

“When you are for all intents and purposes immortal, you quickly gain a sense of patience.” I explained.

“How long have you been a vampire?” Babette asked, rocking back and forth in her seat. She seemed rather pleased to have another of her kind at hand. To be honest, I felt much the same.

“Nearly three hundred years. Two hundred and ninety two, if you are particular.” I informed her. “And yourself?”

“Only two hundred and ninety.” She pouted. “It’s been forever since I met someone who was _actually_ older than me.”

“It has been a very long time since I have met someone older than myself. I have little reason to travel to the Summerset Isles.” I gave her a small smile. The last non-Altmer I had met who was older than I had been Vicente Valtieri. Arquen had been drawing close to the end of her lifespan when the Thalmor raided our Sanctuary, being nearly nine and a half centuries of age. “So I presume that you are three hundred years or so, given your body’s stature.”

“Yes. You… you’re probably three fifty or so. Right?”

“Exactly three hundred and fifty. Good guess.” My smile widened. I glanced at Veezara. I longed to ask if he was Shadowscale, but I could not do so without revealing more than I ought to know. Gabriella approached the table and sat herself down beside me. I could not prevent the minute shift of my body away from hers. I had no issue with Dunmer if my interactions with them were of my own choosing, but if they surprised me or came into my personal space it was another matter. Gabriella, observant as she was, picked up on my movement.

“Don’t like my kind?” She drawled, sounding as though she was used to the reaction.

“A holdover from my youth. I do not dislike Dunmer any more than any other race. I apologize.” I bowed my head slightly.

“Is that a fancy way of saying you’re a bitch?” Arnbjorn sneered.

“Would that not be a compliment, coming from one such as you?” I asked, and the others laughed as Arnbjorn’s expression darkened. I leaned back in my chair. “Enough of me. Tell me of yourselves.” Arnbjorn had been a member of the Companions, who from the description sounded like little more than mercenaries. He was cast from their band after an incident which he did not detail, and had later joined the Brotherhood. Nazir, unsurprisingly, grew up in the Alik’r desert. He would not say much more about himself. Veezara was, in fact, a Shadowscale. Festus Krex claimed to be a ‘prodigy of magick,’ among other things. He had taught at the College of Winterhold for two years before leaving. Gabriella would say nothing of her past, and Babette had already shared as much as she would of her own. The conversation then turned to past contracts, and I had to constantly remind myself that I could not add my own tales. I was pretending to be a new initiate, I reminded myself.

“You’ve been pretty quiet, tidbit.” Arnbjorn commented after a time.

 _“‘Tidbit’?”_ I rose my brows. “I am more than _thrice_ your age.”

“I’m a werewolf. Hard not to think of you as a snack.” He shrugged a shoulder.

“I would not recommend making an attempt.” I snapped. “What would you have me speak of? There is little that I am able to add to your current conversation.”

“Don’t mind him.” Gabriella broke in. “He doesn’t trust anyone at first. Especially the quiet ones.”

“What do you mean, little?” Arnbjorn spoke over her.

“I cannot speak of any past contracts, but Grelod the Kind was far from my first murder.” I replied.

“I guess your eating habits would leave a lot of bodies behind.” He sneered.

“Only if they are bandits and the like.” Or a contract, I added silently. “I do attempt not to murder my bed partners. It tends to attract attention.” Arnbjorn had been taking a drink, and he coughed and spluttered. Gabriella smirked across the table at him as he pounded on his chest.

“I think that you and I are going to be good friends.” Gabriella told me quietly.

* * *

 I remained at the Sanctuary for a few days before I sought out Cicero once more. His chambers were near to the room where Mother was kept, and that was where I found him. I cast a modified Muffle spell on the room to keep any others from hearing.

“I have business that I need to attend to. Will you be well enough without me here?” I asked him quietly. “You may speak freely.”

“Oh, Cicero will be just fine. He will stay here and tend to Mother.” He answered. “Do you know when you will be back?”

“My business is in the Rift, and I do not know how long I will be gone.” I told him. “How have the others been treating you?”

“They ignore poor Cicero, and treat him rudely when they are not.” He pouted. “But don’t let Cicero’s troubles keep you here. The Listener has more important things to do than listen to poor Cicero complain.”

“I will return as soon as I am able.” I told him. I dispelled the Muffling and left the room. Astrid caught me just before I was about to leave.

“We haven’t had much time to talk since you arrived. What do you think so far?”

“It is not quite what one expects when they hear of assassins.” I replied, and she laughed.

“Everyone expects us to be sinister and ghoulish, wearing black and threatening to kill everything in sight. We’re a little odd, no doubt of that, but we’re a Family.”

“That you – we – are.” I agreed. It was the truth. Night Mother or no, they had found a way to carry on. It was not what _I_ expected, or what came to mind when _I_ thought of the Dark Brotherhood, however. I almost missed Arquen at times such as that. Astrid nodded.

“If you’re heading out, you should go see Nazir first. He might have a couple contracts for you by now.”

“I would be amenable to such.” I agreed. Astrid gave me a small smile and walked away. As it happened, Nazir had three minor contracts for me. The details had been taken care of, only the targets needed to be eliminated. There was Narfi, a crazed beggar in Ivarstead; Beitild, a mine owner in Dawnstar; and Ennodius Papius, a paranoid recluse just outside of Windhelm. I could slay Narfi while I was in the Rift. Ivarstead was a little out of my way, but it would be done sooner than the others would. I could think of no reason other than the contract to travel to Dawnstar in the near future. Papius could be slain once I finished the old man Jalamar’s task.

* * *

 Narfi was slain easily enough. I summoned a Bound Bow and shot him in the throat. Dispelling the Bow also dispelled its projectile, making it one of my favourite weapons to use for assassinations. I continued on towards this Echo Deep Mine, referencing my map often. There were no guards posted outside of the mine, which I thought was odd. If the men were planning an attack of any kind, there would be men without to alert those within of any intruders. Nonetheless, I crouched down and snuck into the mine. It was times such as this that I would not mind having a physical weapon. A Bound Bow glowed, and made a distinctive sound when summoned. However, crafting weaponry was very time consuming, and I had not yet taken the time to craft any for myself. I did not use many Conjuration spells, but some, aside from Bound weapons, could be useful. I summoned a Familiar and a Bow before making my way further into the mine. My Familiar walked a small distance ahead of me, drawing attention and allowing me to quickly fire an arrow into vulnerable parts of any we encountered. There was a smaller number of mercenaries than I had originally anticipated, from Jalamar’s unease. When my Familiar was finally slain, I summoned another, and we pressed on. At the bottom of the mine were a set of doors that I recognized as Dwarven make from what I had seen in Markarth. I discovered that they desperately needed to be oiled when they screamed as I pushed them open. I winced and slipped through as soon as the gap was large enough. I could smell blood as I continued down the hall. In the final room stood a creature about which I had only ever before read: a Dwarven Centurion. The largest and strongest of the Animunculi left behind by their Dwarven creators, they were extremely dangerous. I slipped back around the corner out of sight to consider my plan of attack. From what I had read, they were immune to frost, and had a varying resistance to magick in any form. I hoped that such resistance would not apply to my Bound Bow. From my quick glance at the machine, it appeared as though I would need to aim any shots carefully, as most would bounce off. But it also appeared that the mercenaries who had preceded me had injured it in some form. Only one of its arms was still attached, from what I had seen. I cast Invisibility to ensure I had the advantage for as long as possible before taking a deep breath and approaching the room once more. If I could fire an arrow into its joints and other mechanisms, I could disable it, at the very least. I sent out my Familiar to harry the machine and took careful aim. Its left arm was missing, leaving it with a hammer on its right. As the Familiar approached, the machine took the opportunity to remind me of something I had forgotten: it loosed an overheated shot of steam directly into the Familiar, causing it to whimper and take a few steps back. When the steam ended, the Familiar launched itself at the machine. I fired a shot into the back of its knee, inhibiting its movement. It swung its hammer at my Familiar, and while it passed through slowly and sluggishly, the Familiar was thrown across the room. It slowly lifted itself to its feet and attacked once more. The Centurion spun about on its good leg, now facing me. I saw that a panel on its front was missing, and aimed my next shot there. The arrow slid home, lodging into the machine’s internal mechanisms. The Centurion paused, made a few odd whirring noises, and began to shudder. At the last moment I began to suspect that it might actually explode, and I ducked around the corner just before it burst. Small pieces of metal flew everywhere, a few bouncing off the wall I had just stood in front of. Some of the larger pieces emanated heat and were steaming, and I shuddered, thankful that I had avoided being struck by any of them. Sensitivity to sunlight translated to sensitivity to heat in nearly all its forms. I looked around the corner to ensure that it was void of life before making my way in. All of the mercenaries were now slain, and thus I could return to Jalamar in good faith if I wished. But I knew that there had to be a reason that the men had come in the first place. I studied the room. There was a wall of spikes a few feet out from the back wall, blocking in… nothing. Behind them was just a blank span of wall. Down a ramp from the spikes stood a waist-level – on me – piece of machinery of some kind, with a small opening at its top. It looked as though it was meant to hold something, though I knew not what. I searched the corpses, hoping for a clue. One of them carried a journal and some sort of… glowing Dwarven cube. On all sides it was two fingers widths larger than my hand, and uncomfortable to hold. I set it aside and opened the journal.

 

_After far too long of searching, we have finally found it. We have the ancient lexicon, and may now travel through the gate. Perhaps it was luck, perhaps it was fate. My family’s work is no longer wasted, and I can fulfill my grandfather’s wishes. We are headed to the old buried mines of Mzubthand tomorrow. I have worked a deal out with the local bandit leader to grant us passage, though we must still watch our backs, as they are not to be trusted._

_We found the gate! It was just where the books said it would be. We are going to secure the area, and examine it real fast, then attempt to use the cube. It appears to have a control manifold we can use. There is a large Dwarven Centurion here that looks intact, but it’s either slumbering or dead as it has yet to make any sounds or movement. Skajalm even tapped it jokingly with his sword, and we are confident that it will not harm us. I just hope this thing works._

 

I set the journal down and shook my head. If the Centurion had been inactive at first, they should have ensured that it would remain inactive before continuing with their plans. Mzubthand sounded Dwarven – that must be the name of the ruins I now stood within. But what gate was the cube meant to open? Lowering the spikes would do nothing else. The control manifold must be the odd machinery just at the base of the gate. With a shrug, I picked up the cube and held it above the opening. Small mechanical arms reached up to grasp it, and the cube was tugged from my grasp. A sequence of lights flashed on the cube and something whirred. The spikes retracted into the ground, and the wall behind them began to shimmer as it had not before. I frowned as I approached it. Strange magicks and a strong sense of curiosity were not a good combination, and I had a healthy amount of the latter. I shot a few spells at the wall to no effect. The ice slid off, the flames quickly died out, and shock spells left naught but black marks upon the wall. I picked up a piece of what had been the Centurion and tossed it at the wall… and it slid through. I took a few quick steps towards it and looked about, ensuring that it had not bounced off, and I only missed it. No, the piece of metal was gone. I momentarily wondered if it might not be an Oblivion Gate of some sort before dismissing that line of thought. No, Martin had sacrificed himself to ensure that such a thing would never again happen. If it was not an opening into a plane of Oblivion, then that only left some other part of Nirn. How, I did not know, but I was eager to find out. Slowly, carefully, I extended a hand and laid it upon the wall. At least, where my eyes told me it was. My hand met with little resistance before passing through. I reached out, stopping when I could not see past my elbow. I drew my hand back and looked it over. There were no injuries or wounds of any form. Without any further hesitation, I stepped through.

* * *

 “Mecaius!” I heard a man calling. “Mecaius, are you in here?” I was trapped behind a wall of spikes, similar to the ones on the other side of the portal. I saw a lever on the other side, but it was just out of my reach. Perhaps with a bit of Alteration magick I could move it… “What in Oblivion?” A dark-haired Nord had entered the room I was in. “Did you just come through that portal?”

“I see no other way for me to be trapped here.” I gestured towards the spikes. A glance over my shoulder told me that the portal had closed behind me.

“If you just came through that, that’d make you the Traveller.” He frowned and sheathed his sword as he approached me.

“The Traveller?” I repeated.

“‘They who arrive through the shimmering gate mark the start of the worst.’” He quoted, and then cleared his throat. “It’s, uhh, just a story, of course.”

“Where am I?” The man scoffed.

“You didn’t bother to find out where that thing went before you jumped in, did you? You’re in Falskaar.”

“It did not come with instructions, I fear.” I quipped. “I came here from Skyrim.”

“And you somehow got the portal working.” He nodded. “My job dictates that I arrest you right here and now.”

“You are welcome to make the attempt.” I shot him a grin and folded my arms across my chest. He shook his head.

“I’m in the middle of something important right now. If you give me a hand with it, then afterwards you’ll be free to go.”

“As simple as that?” I raised a brow.

“Simple as that. I’m looking for Mecaius, the blacksmith’s apprentice from Amber Creek. Since he’s not in here, I assume that means he’s in the nearby cave. Unfortunately, I can also assume that it’s full of bandits.”

“You wish my aid in slaying them?” I asked.

“I’ll still have to report your arrival to my superiors of course, but if you assist me, I’ll tell them you were cooperative and helpful. Also, your portal’s turned itself off, and the switch to lower the spikes is over here, meaning I’m the only one who can let you out.”

“Not necessarily.” I smiled and nudged the lever with Alteration magick, pushing it forward and lowering the spikes. “Attempted blackmail or no, I will aid you. My name is Lycoris.”

“Olvir. Now let’s get going. I don’t want to waste any more time.” He led the way out of the ruin and into the light of day. The cave he led me to was not far from the Dwarven ruins, and contained a handful of bandits. I was surprised to see that a few of them were mages. If Olvir was unnerved by my own use of magic, he made no mention of it. Once the bandits were slain, we entered the final cavern, which contained a young Nord within a cage. “Mecaius!” Olvir descended into the cavern.

“Thank the Divines!” The boy cried. “Get me out of here! The switch to open the cage is on the wall over there. I have important information for Jarl Agnar.”

“What is it? Are you all right?” Olvir found the switch and pulled it, causing the cage door to swing open.

“The bandits, they’re working for Yngvarr!” Olvir’s eyes widened at the news. I ignored him and approached the boy, Restoration spells in hand. “I overheard them talking. They’re searching for something. That’s why they kidnapped me.” I cast the healing spell, and the boy sighed and stretched his limbs.

“What are they searching for? What could you possibly know?”

“They wanted to know about some key. When they found out I didn’t know anything, they were enraged. They were deciding what to do with me when you two showed up, thank the Divines.”

“Jarl Agnar must know about this. You need to go home and get some rest.” Olvir looked over at me. “Go to Amber Creek, to the southeast. I’d go but I have a patrol to keep, and Mecaius is rattled and needs rest. Once you’re there, anyone can give you directions to the manor house. Tell him the bandits are working for Yngvarr.” I nodded. “It’s imperative that he knows. He might even have reward for bringing him such important information.”

“Thank you for saving me.” Mecaius spoke up. “I’ll see you both in Amber Creek.”

“Come on. I’ll open the gate for you.” I followed Olvir and Mecaius from the cave. There was a large gate some distance away, and Olvir unlocked it for us. “Welcome to Falskaar.”

* * *

 I ensured that Mecaius reached Rangarr, the smith, before asking directions to the Jarl’s manor.

“Borvaldur Manor is just up the road. You can’t miss it.” The smith pointed to a large building. I nodded my thanks and headed up the road. When I entered the manor, a large Nord in armor was speaking to a child that I assumed was his son. I waited for the boy to leave before walking further into the room.

“I am looking for Jarl Agnar.” I stated.

“You have found him.” He replied. He had a deep, booming voice. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Olvir enlisted my aid in searching for the smith’s apprentice, Mecaius. He claims that the bandits are working for someone named Yngvarr. He overheard them recounting their orders from Yngvarr to capture him.” The Jarl frowned.

“This… is bad news. It could very well mean the start of another war.” He sighed. “Thank you for bringing me this information. Please take this token of my appreciation.” He handed me a purse of coins. “I hate to ask more of you…”

“But you will.” I commented, folding my arms across my chest. He nodded.

“Yes. I have little choice. A small history lesson, first. Long ago, when there was war between my family and the Unnvaldrs, there was a group of monks that served as our wise men and court mages. They have since retired to a simpler life, but their roots are still there. They may have some idea of what Yngvarr is up to. Please go to Bailun Priory, to the southwest, and speak with Brother Thorlogh. See if he knows anything.” Another Priory. However, I did not think that this one harbored the Grandmaster of the Blades, unlike the previous one.

“Very well. Before I leave, I must ask a few questions.”

“Please be quick.”

“There _is_ a way for me to return to Skyrim, I hope.” I inquired, and Jarl Agnar rose a brow.

“Return to Skyrim? You wouldn’t happen to know anything about a portal, would you?”

“I walked through it not an hour past.” I admitted. “Olvir called me ‘the Traveller’, and recited something that sounded oddly like a prophecy.”

“Yes, there is a way for you to return home. I would ask, however, that you not leave just yet. A very long time ago, a man claimed to have been spoken to by the Gods themselves. They foretold a… prophecy, of sorts. The Gods told him that ‘they who arrive through the shimmering wall mark the start of the worst,’ and that they were ‘the Traveller’. This tale spread, and eventually became somewhat of a legend in Falskaar. Nothing ever happened, and the gate within Mzubthand remained dormant.”

“Until now.”

“Until now.” Agnar agreed. “You’ve come through from Skyrim. What does that mean? Are you the brave soul the man spoke of? If so, what does that mean is about to happen? The land has been riddled with war and death; we can’t take much more of it.”

“This cannot be easy to contemplate.” I murmured.

“It is not. Was there anything else that you needed to know?”

“Those were the most urgent questions I had. I’ll not trouble you further.” I bowed my head and left the manor. I walked down the road for a ways, until I came across a road sign. Following its guidance, I turned down the road marked ‘Bailun Priory’. Falskaar was beautiful, and its weather was similar to Skyrim’s, thus far. I encountered a small number of beasts along the road and quickly dispatched them. Besides that, I reached Bailun Priory in a few hours without incident. A handful of priests… no, the Jarl had called them monks. A handful of monks stood outside of the Priory. A blonde Nord man noticed my approach first and came to greet me.

“Blessings of the Gods upon you. My name is Brother Thorlogh. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Jarl Agnar asked me to speak with you. Do you know anything about the increased banditry of late?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t. I know they’re a growing problem, and are all over Falskaar, but nothing else.”

“It is believed that the bandits are in the employ of someone called Yngvarr. The Jarl would likely appreciate your aid.”

“That couldn’t be.” The monk shook his head in disbelief. “Unless… is Yngvarr trying to start another war? Regardless, we cannot help. Seven hundred years ago, Shor saved our ancestors so that we could flourish in this land and absorb its knowledge, not tear it apart with war.”

“Shor’s intent or no, war has come, and it will again. Not everyone is a pacifist, as you well know.” I replied.

“We will not help instigate another war with the Unnvaldrs. Of course, we are still loyal to the Borvaldurs. If it comes to it, we will fight by Agnar’s side until victory or Sovngarde takes us.”

“Is that the message you wish me to relay?”

“Yes. Now, if there’s nothing else, I have duties I must attend to.” I bowed my head and turned on my heel. It was beyond aggravating to be used as little more than a messenger, but the sooner I finished with this, the sooner I could be on my way. By the time I returned to Amber Creek it was late, and I knew better than to attempt entry into Borvaldur Manor. I found the local inn and rented a room for the night, then ordered a drink and sat down at a table to listen to rumours. There were far more issues of late than just the bandits, it seemed. One girl mentioned necromancers, and I sat up immediately and paid closer attention.

“I heard that all the necromancers are working with one of the monks who was kicked out of the Priory,” she was saying.

“Do you know anything else of them?” I asked, drawing her attention.

“No, not really.” She shook her head. “They’re not bothering us anyway.”

“Not yet, perhaps.” I countered. “Their kind never do anything without a greater goal in mind.” The girl shrugged, dismissing the subject. I sighed quietly. Necromancers were not something that one simply dismissed out of hand – the Mages’ Guild had done that, two hundred years ago, and look where that had gotten them. They had assumed that simply outlawing necromancy would be enough, and that everyone would simply adhere to the ruling. That had seen the return of the King of Worms, Mannimarco, and the death of Archmage Traven, among numerous others. However, with the banditry issues of late, the necromancers likely seemed the lesser of the evils to the people of Falskaar. Those who did not study or practice magick, at least. I assumed that the monks were keeping a closer eye on the necromancers than the villagers were. Howbeit, experience told me that if I wished for a thing to be done I must see it done myself. I finished my drink, which had been far more tasteful that I had expected, then retired for the night.

* * *

 I woke with the dawn and made my way to Borvaldur Manor. The Jarl was not yet awake, but his wife, Jalma, was.

“You are the one known as the Traveller, aren’t you?” She asked. She had a sweet, pleasant voice.

“My name is Lycoris. I have been told that I am the Traveller, yes.”

“My husband told me of you after you left.” She explained. “I do hope that you will be able to help us.”

“Seeing as I am here for the immediate future, I will do what I may. But I do not think that your husband will be pleased with what Brother Thorlogh has told me.”

“He is not the kind of man who will shoot the messenger.” She assuaged.

“I did not think that he was.” I replied. We passed the time until her husband woke speaking of trivial things.

“You have spoken to Brother Thorlogh?” He asked by way of greeting.

“He knows nothing, save that the bandits have become more bold and numerous of late. He refuses to come to your aid, saying that he will not instigate another war. He remains loyal to you, and will fight should the need arise.”

“Yngvarr sends men to kidnap and interrogate one of my people, and he blankets the land with mercenaries. Is this not a declaration of war?” Agnar growled. “Very well. We shall work without their help, for now.”

“By that, I presume you have another task for me.” I folded my arms across my chest and narrowed my eyes at him. If it was yet another message, I might well scream.

“Yes. Bandits have overrun the docks, cutting off trade.” My ears perked up. “I must ask you to go to the docks and kill the bandits. Henrik runs the store there. If he lives, ask him if he learned anything useful while the bandits were there.”

“Very well.” My lips spread in a small smile. I was given directions and sent on my way. The docks were a long way from any city or town, which I thought surprising. How was a store run if there were no people coming through on a regular basis? The docks were on the southeastern coast of Falskaar, and there was no direct route, as the mountains were impassable. I needed to go a ways to the north before bearing south. On my journey, I passed the remains of a wagon caravan. One of its guards still lived. They had been ambushed, and the goods stolen. A prominent bandit lord, Jarrik ‘the Crusher’, was the perpetrator.

“Please, if you have a healing potion…” The guard begged.

“I can do one better.” I replied, glowing Restoration magick in my hands.

“Thank you.” His breathing was much better, as was his colouring. “If you decide to go after him, be careful. He has a large force with him at Mammoth Keep.” He marked the location, just north of the city of Borvald, on my map and I continued on my way. Mammoth Keep was a fair distance out of my way. At the very least, I could pass the information along to the guards in Amber Creek. When I finally arrived at the docks, I could hear raised voices. I dropped into a crouch and snuck closer, summoning a Bow. I saw no sign of anyone not in armor, and proceeded to kill those that I could see. I shot one in the throat and another through the eye before the bandits drew too close to my position. I dispelled the Bow and summoned a Sword in its stead and laying down a pair of Fire Runes at my feet, set to explode should any of them draw closer. I then threw a pair of Fireballs into their midst, scattering them and setting a fair few aflame. I nearly felt pity for the Khajiit bandit, who proceeded to throw himself into the ocean to douse himself. I took three steps backward, staying behind my Runes. A Nord set one of them off and was roasted alive within his armor, while two other bandits drew bows. I could not judge if they were fair or poor shots, and so I closed on the nearer of the two. She trembled, dropping the first arrow she sought to aim, and I did not give her the time to reach for a second. Typical of most bandits, she wore poor armor, and my Bound Blade slid easily betwixt her ribs. The other archer, an Argonian, had drawn further away while a second Nord wearing steel plate drew closer. I tossed a Thunderbolt spell at him, the metal of his armor conducting the electricity quite nicely. I walked over his smoldering corpse towards the Argonian. He had an arrow nocked and his bow drawn and I began to run – not straight towards him, that would have been utterly foolish – but in a twisted route, to hopefully foul his aim. I threw an Icy Spear once I knew my aim would be true, and it found its mark in his stomach. I cut his throat as I drew abreast of him. Three more bandits had slipped out from the ruined remains of a building. Two of them drew close while a third cast a Mage Armor spell; which one, I did not know. _He_ was the greatest threat. The Dunmer mage lobbed a fire spell in my direction and I launched myself away from it. It was unlikely that he knew how much of a threat fire posed to me; fire was a favourite branch to many Destruction mages. With my free hand I threw a Frenzy spell at the furthest of the non-mage enemies and slashed my Sword at the closer. The Frenzied bandit attacked the mage, as I had hoped. With the mage momentarily distracted I was free to concentrate on the third enemy. I shot a stream of Flames into her face and she raised her shield to block them. I swung a leg behind hers, sending her crashing to the ground. She cried out and threw out her arms to attempt to catch herself, and I plunged my Sword through her chest. The mage had slain the other bandit, and the two of us were now alone. Dunmer were resistant to flame, I knew, and many had little to no qualms about raising the dead to fight for them, illegal magicks or not. I was unsurprised when he Raised two nearby bandits to fight for him. Such thralls were typically weak to fire, no matter their race, and these proved to be the same. The mage eventually Raised nearly every bandit I had previously slain, and one of the archers – I cannot recall which – landed a lucky arrow in my thigh. With that, I had had enough. I dispelled my Sword and raised both hands, calling up a powerful fire spell of my own creation. Even the mage took a great deal of damage, Dunmer though he was. With the bandits’ corpses now charred beyond use and the mage grievously injured, there was little left to him. I crushed the mage’s windpipe with a stomp of my foot and the battle was done. I made my way over to one of the less ruined buildings and sat down upon the porch.

“Hello?” A man’s voice called. “Is anyone out there?” I had forgotten that I was sent for more than slaying bandits. I let out a breath and pushed myself to my feet, heading towards where I had heard the voice.

“I will be there momentarily.” I called back. There were four of them – two men, a boy, and a woman. I cut their bonds and began to see to my own injury. The arrow had not penetrated far, thank Y’ffre. “Are you uninjured?” I grasped the arrow behind the head and pulled sharply.

“Nothing more than bruises.” The younger man said, his words smothering my gasp. “We will keep.” I nodded and inspected the arrowhead. It was whole. I tossed it aside and healed myself.

“Jarl Agnar sent me.” I informed them. “I was told to ask if Henrik had learned anything of note while the bandits were here.”

“That would be me.” The man gave me a small smile. “These were only a few. The rest of them are at Hjalmar Armory, northwest of here.”

“Would you be able to mark its location on a map?” I stood and performed a few small stretches.

“Yes. You’re going after them?” I handed him my map and he marked the location.

“It seems that I must.” I answered. I took a pair of magicka potions from my pack and downed them, replenishing most of my magickal energies.

“But surely you need some rest after that fight.” Henrik argued.

“I will be well.” Now empty, I slipped the bottles back into my pack. Sturdy, well-shaped glass bottles such as these tended to be expensive. “I must be away.”

* * *

The Hjalmar Armory was filled near to the brim with bandits, much to my surprise. This Yngvarr had a great deal of coin, or prestige, or both. Slowly, carefully, I made my way through the Armory, slaying those I came across. I relied upon my Bow and a few well-placed Frenzy spells, slinking through the shadows. At the base of the Armory I found only a pair of bandits, upon whom I slaked my thirst and assorted paperwork, including a set of orders.

 

_All troops mobilize immediately._

_Group Orders:_

_You are to capture the docks and stop boat shipments. Remember to keep an eye out for the object. Yngvarr wants us to find it, and if we do there is a huge reward._

_Hold the docks until you receive further orders. If refuge is needed, utilize Hjalmar Armory to the northwest._

_Lt. Kolgrim of Staalgarde_

I frowned as I looked them over. What was this mysterious object that Yngvarr sought? Mecaius spoke of a key when Olvir and I had rescued him. Key to what? I could think of no key that had ever caused this much turmoil over locating it. I pocketed the orders and made my way from the Armory.

* * *

 The guards thanked me for the information on Mammoth’s Keep, but did not appear to wish to confront Jarrik and his men. I resolved that were I ever in the area I would deal with them myself. I then went to Borvaldur Manor to give the orders I had found to the Jarl. He was less than pleased with the information.

“His entire army? I’m not sure what we’re up against, then.” The Jarl sat down in a chair and frowned down at the parchment.

“From the state of Hjalmar Armory, I would wager that it is a large number of men.” Agnar sighed.

“I had hoped that we were through with war. One hundred years ago his family attacked, seeking the throne.” I raised a brow, but said nothing. This was the first mention of a throne. “The war ended with my family as the victors, and his in shame. They agreed to never try to gain power again, and ever since it has been mostly peaceful here.”

“Only mostly?” I asked, sitting down.

“There have been some minor attacks and skirmishes since. Nothing linked directly to the Unnvaldrs or Staalgarde.” He put the parchment down and rested his chin on his hand. “The most recent was twenty years ago when Pinevale was burned to the ground.”

“Do you have any suspicions as to what it might be that he seeks?”

“I’m not sure. But whatever it is, it’s bad news for us and he needs to be stopped. We had best get my housecarls.”

“By ‘we’, you mean _me_ , I take it.” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Yes. The Hjorgunnar family has served mine loyally for hundreds of years. All that’s left of them is two brothers, Ulgar and Svegard. Follow the river east until you come to a stream. Follow that stream north and it will take you to their cabin. Tell them that they are to resume their duties as my housecarls. It is not a statement that is spoken lightly, and they will know it means war is upon us.”

“As you wish.” I spat, rising to my feet. I left the manor, nearly slamming the door behind me. I was trapped here, it seemed, for some time. I had no way of returning to Skyrim in the near future, and it seemed that the Jarl was loathe to tell me. My anger did not dim, not even when I arrived at the cabin belonging to the Hjorgunnars. “I am looking for Svegard and Ulgar Hjorgunnar.” I called. Two burly Nord men came out. The two of them were nearly identical with their brown hair, save that one had a full beard and the other did not.

“You have found them.” The one without a beard replied. “Is there something that we can do for you?”

“Jarl Agnar asks that you resume your duties as housecarls.” The brothers exchanged glances.

“The Unnvaldrs are making trouble again?” He asked. “Very well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. Let Agnar know that Ulgar and I need some time to prepare, and then we’ll be there.” That would make this one Svegard, then. I nodded in assent and turned on my heel to return to Amber Creek. When I returned, I heard Agnar’s voice raised in anger, and followed its sound.

“It’s simple and I’ll only ask one more time. Let us search, and then we’ll leave.” A bald Nord man in ebony plate armor with a bear fur thrown over his shoulders was speaking with the Jarl.

“You will do no such thing. I don’t know what you’re up to, Yngvarr, but you will leave my people be.” The Jarl replied. This was Yngvarr? He did not seem so fearsome to me.

“You will let us search, or else.” Yngvarr seethed.

“Or else what?” Agnar scoffed. “Go bad to Staalgarde, Yngvarr. You are not welcome here. Leave my people in peace.”

“I’ll be back, and you’ll regret this. Your whole town will!” Yngvarr sneered, his gaze passing over me as he turned to leave.

“Got sick of Staalgarde already?” A man’s voice called, rough and full of gravel. A glance over my shoulder told me that Ulgar and Svegard had arrived.

“Here on vacation, are we?” Svegard added.

“Shut up, both of you.” Yngvarr snarled, walking away. The three men glared at Yngvarr’s back until he was out of sight.

“Svegard, Ulgar! It’s good to see you two again!” Agnar greeted them, once Yngvarr was gone. He clapped each on the shoulder.

“Indeed. It has been too long, my friend.” Ulgar shot him a grin.

“How may we serve you, my King?” Svegard gave him a half-bow.

“Svegard, we have been over this.” Agnar chided.

“Sorry.” The man did not sound the least bit repentant. “How may we be of assistance, Agnar?”

“Yngvarr is up to something.” Agnar stated, and Ulgar scoffed.

“Big surprise there.”

“He demanded to search the town, and has mobilized his entire army.”

“His _entire_ army?” Svegard repeated, looking over at his brother.

“He is up to something for sure.” Ulgar agreed, nodding.

“I fear he may make a move on Amber Creek, or Borvald. I think you two need to be here.” Agnar continued.

“Of course, Agnar. Our swords are yours.” Ulgar promised.

“Very good.” Agnar seemed much relieved. “Now we must figure out… Brother Thorlogh? Have you decided to help?” I had not noticed the monk’s approach, as entrenched in my own anger as I still was.

“Yngvarr, that bastard.” The monk swore, shaking with anger. I raised my brows. “He came to the Priory, demanding to search the place. We let him search the main temple, but when he wanted to search the private quarters Brother Collins stepped in. Yngvarr’s men simply killed him, and searched the place anyway. They tore it apart.” Brother Thorlogh shook his head, looking at the ground. “We buried him, cleaned up, and grabbed our weapons.” He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again his anger coloured his voice. “We were to remain neutral until provoked, and Yngvarr just hit the bee hive with a stick. Wherever you need us, we Sons of Shor will be there.” Agnar put a hand on the monk’s shoulder.

“May Brother Collins be guided swiftly to Sovngarde.” He breathed. “I’m glad you decided to fight. This may be worse than we thought.”

“What could Yngvarr possibly want?” Svegard mused. “He searched the Priory, and now he tries to search Amber Creek? Why hasn’t he touched Borvald?” Agnar’s eyes widened.

“Borvald! Either he has already been there, or he is headed there now. Jarl Valfred must be warned!” My lip curled into a sneer. The Brother was in mourning, and so he would not be sent, and the brothers had come to guard the Jarl, who most _certainly_ would not be leaving. That would leave myself. Again.

“Then we aren’t leaving your side.” Ulgar spoke, and I nodded to myself. “You’re in too much danger.”

“Ulgar is right.” Svegard agreed.

“I must stay to mourn… and to think.” Brother Thorlogh stated, confirming my thoughts.

“That just leaves our friend here.” Svegard turned to me with a grin.

“I am _not_ your _friend_.” I spat. “Nevertheless, I will go to Borvald. Y'ffre knows that if something must be done, it is best to do it one’s own self.” Svegard looked wounded at my vitriol, and I smirked. “Perhaps with the four of you now here, you may be able to accomplish something _useful_ on your own.” I turned and started down the road.

“Surely you can take some time to rest.” Thorlogh called after me. “You’ve been on the go all day.”

“I will keep, monk.” I called back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANYTHING THAT YOU DO NOT IMMEDIATELY RECOGNIZE IS PROPERTY OF ALEXANDER J. VELICKY AND HIS "Falskaar" MOD. I HAVE OBTAINED PERMISSION TO INCLUDE IT IN THIS FIC. 
> 
> Now that that's over with - in the game itself, you can't actually be this rude to any of the characters. Lycoris simply feels trapped, like she doesn't have any choice in the matter. I have changed a few small pieces of dialogue to better fit my character and what she says/thinks, but I have remained true to the core of it all. There is more to the mod to what I outline here. I'm probably only going to go through the main quest in any sort of detail, and what I haven't mentioned is a crap tonne of walking. Falskaar is a beautiful, large island, and you do a lot of walking. Unless you buy the horse, but I personally have no luck with them in-game.


	5. Chapter 5

When I arrived at Borvald, I was halted at the gate by a red-haired Nord with a splash of tan-coloured war paint slanted across his eyes and down his left cheek.

“I must see the Jarl.” I informed him.

“The city is under lockdown by Jarl Valfred’s order. What makes you think I’d let you in?” He scoffed.

“I bear urgent news from Amber Creek and Jarl Agnar. I must not be delayed.” He nodded, seeming to accept my tale.

“Very well. I’ll show you to Jarl Valfred. Follow me please.” I was pleasantly surprised by his manners. The man turned away from me to look up at the guards above, along the city’s walls. “We have a visitor for Jarl Valfred! Open the gates!” The gates were opened, and the man led me into the city. The people within seemed to be going about their daily business, and not a few of them shot me dark looks. The man stayed at my side, not allowing me to wander. Up a set of stairs, and he stopped in front of a large house. “Jarl Valfred is inside.” He gestured towards the door. I opened the door and stepped inside. The man did not follow me, which was unexpected. I shook my head and made my way further inside. Only one man was inside, and he made his way toward me when he saw me.

“I’m Jarl Valfred. Is there something I can help you with?” He asked.

“Yngvarr of Staalgarde is raising an army and is tearing apart the countryside looking for something. Jarl Agnar sent me to warn you.” I informed him.

“I figured that’s what was happening. I’ve had my city sealed because these damn bandits are everywhere and killing my people. It would be Yngvarr. Damned Unnvaldrs are up to something again. Can’t they just leave us be?” He shook his head. “You said that he was looking for something. Do you know what?”

“If Agnar, the Hjorgunnars, or Brother Thorlogh have any theories, they have not shared them with me. Yngvarr has searched Bailun Priory, and made an attempt to search Amber Creek.” Valfred frowned.

“I don’t like what this implies. I _think_ I may know what he’s after, but I don’t want to jump to conclusions. Especially not this one.” The front door of the house burst open and I leapt to my feet, spells in hand. I relaxed when I saw it was the man who had brought me.

“Jarl Valfred, sir, the city is under siege! It’s the bandits, they’ve breached the gates!”

“Yngvarr has arrived.” I commented.

“Damn it!” Valfred snapped. “We don’t have much time! Goran, grab our weapons and let’s go.”

“Already have them.” The man answered, handing Valfred a blade.

“Yngvarr has the nerve to attack my city? This is certainly the start of another damn war. You have to go and tell Agnar.” Valfred took his blade from Goran. “Yngvarr is either desperate for power, or already has a lot of it. We have to get you out of the city so you can get help from Agnar. Let’s go.” From his tone, I knew that any attempt to argue would be useless. I shook my head and summoned a Bound Bow. I reminded myself that I needed physical weapons, sooner rather than late. The three of us exited the house and were immediately swarmed by bandits. I drew back, picking off the archers and others that Valfred and Goran did not slay. Around the side of the house was a ledge, and a small drop. The men went first, and I followed shortly after. There were more bandits below, but they were easily slain. Valfred and Goran ran down the street, leaving me little choice but to follow. “Dammit, the gate’s damaged!” Valfred cursed. “We’ll have to go through the crypts. There’s a secret exit we can take. Let’s go!” Back the way we came, to where we had leapt down. Goran threw open a small door, ushering Valfred and I through before slamming it behind us. Valfred opened another door and I followed him. I made to continue, but Goran spoke.

“There are too many bandits topside. I don’t want any following you in. I’ll stay behind and hold them off.” Valfred appeared shocked.

“But Goran, you can’t just –”

“There’s no gods-damned time to argue! Now go!” Goran closed the door and I barred it as best I could with what I could find. I also cast a small ward, which would alert me if the door was breached.

“Very well, then.” Valfred spoke quietly, then cleared his throat. “We should go if we don’t want his death to be in vain.” I nodded my assent. He made as though to lead me down the passage and I halted him.

“I will go first.”

“You’re an archer, and a mage.” He argued, frowning.

“I am far more than that.” I summoned a Bound Sword and readied Chain Lightning in the other hand. As we made our way down the tunnel it grew lighter rather than darker, which told me that we were not alone. I heard voices ahead, and held up a hand for Valfred to halt. He obeyed the command, telling me that he had spent time either in the military or around military people. I cast Detect Life, which told me that there were three people in the next room. I relayed the information to him, holding up three fingers, and he nodded. I readied Chain Lightning once more and crouched, proceeding slowly. The three bandits were standing close to one another, chatting, and I smiled. That would make things far simpler. I cast the spell, and it hit all three of them. One of them fell immediately, while the others drew their weapons – one a sword and shield, and the other a bow. I threw a Lightning Bolt at the archer before closing with the other bandit. He relied on his shield to keep me from getting too close, and instead I sheeted the ground beneath his feet with ice. He slipped, and I thrust my Sword into his chest.

“You are a very accomplished mage.” Valfred commented.

“It is not so difficult as mundanes – those such as yourself – believe.” I replied. “Those who have not seen mages in battle see rituals and other spells, and assume that all spellwork is thus. Battlemages, however, must cast quickly, and their spells were designed with this thought in mind. Of all the spells I tend to use in battle, it is the Bound Weapons that take the longest to cast.” There was a set of stairs along the wall, and Valfred gestured for me to climb them.

“There’s a hidden door up here.” Valfred informed me. “I just have to find the… aha!” The catch was found and used, and a section of wall slid into the ground to reveal another twisted passageway. Valfred took a half-bow and gestured towards the passage. “Ladies first.” I smirked and shook my head. It appeared that he was smothering his grief over Goran however he could. It had been two decades since I had cause to grieve myself, but that did not mean I had forgotten what it felt like. We did not encounter any bandits while making our way through the passage, which led to a small room. I could smell blood and old sweat, and I cast Detect Life. There was someone on the other side of the wall on my left, which had a small gap. There was a stone slab, upon which rested what looked like a necklace. “By the Divines, what is that!?” Valfred demanded. An Orc walked into our sights on the other side of the wall and snatched up the necklace.

“You’re too late if you’re here to stop me. The Key is mine. Yngvarr _will_ get the Heart of the Gods, and he will rule all of you!” He departed, his laughter ringing behind him. I cast Chain Lightning, trying to aim through the gap, but it only bounced back at us. Valfred and I were both shocked by the spell, and I was grateful that I had not cast at full power.

“I apologize.” I healed Valfred. “What did he speak of?” If this ‘Heart of the Gods’ were anything like the Heart of Lorkhan, the entirety of Tamriel could be in danger.

“I don’t have time to explain right now. It’s very, very bad. We must hurry.” Valfred’s pulse had quickened upon hearing what Yngvarr sought, which did not alleviate my growing concerns. He pushed past me to continue through the passage. I shook my head and followed after him. A fool could gave gathered that this Heart of the Gods was dangerous, and a fool I was not. The passage led to another room in short order, and it contained a handful of bandits and numerous barrels. The room stank of oil, to the point where I was sure that the Jarl must have smelled it as well.

“What’s with all this oil?” Valfred asked once the bandits were slain, confirming my suspicions. “Are they going to blow up the city?”

“If that is their intent, then they have much more than what we see here. We cannot linger.” Valfred only nodded and gestured towards a door on the far side of the room. The door led to a small cliff beneath Borvald, above a lake. I took a few deep breaths, clearing the scent of oil from my lungs. I did not need to breathe, but I was accustomed to doing so around those who were not Brotherhood or vampires, to prevent suspicion.

“This is the only way out.” Valfred stated, gesturing towards the lake below us. “Now go on, you have to jump. It’s the only way you’ll survive.” Vampire or no, he was correct. Even one such as I could not survive an explosion. “Tell Agnar that Yngvarr is going for the Heart of the Gods, he’ll understand. I’ll hold them off for as long as I can. Now jump!”

“If they intend to blow up the city, there will be no more in the tunnels. There is no need for you to remain.” I argued. Valfred shook his head and grasped my arm at the elbow. I stiffened, but did not shake him off.

“I’ll be down after you.” He told me, and I frowned. I opened my mouth to argue and the Jarl rolled his eyes before pushing me over the edge of the cliff.

“That bastard!” I cursed. The explosion came before I hit the lake’s surface. I slammed into the lake, and once I broke the surface I cast Detect Life. “Foolish, prideful man.” The Jarl had not had a chance to follow. I swam for the shore, cursing him all the while. Seeing as I was in the area, I travelled northwards to Mammoth Keep to take care of Jarrik ‘the Crusher’. He and his men were rather easily dealt with. Jarrik carried a note with a riddle, intended to remind him should he forget where his ‘loot’ was. I got turned around once or twice before actually locating the chest. The woman to whom the shipment of fabric belonged lived just south of Amber Creek, from what the wounded guard had told me when I saw him. She would likely appreciate having it returned.

* * *

 Helena, as I learned her name was, was very glad to have her belongings returned.

“You should speak to Jalma, the Jarl’s wife.” She told me, once I explained everything. “There was probably a bounty on Jarrik.” Helena gave me a dress – which was likely far too large for me, but the thought was appreciated – and I returned to Amber Creek to speak to Agnar.

“Have you spoken to Valfred yet?” Agnar demanded, before I had taken two steps into the manor.

“Borvald has fallen.” I informed him. “Yngvarr’s men arrived shortly after I did. Jarl Valfred is dead.”

“What!?” Agnar shouted. “That son of a… did you talk to Valfred before the attack?”

“He and I nearly escaped the city together. We fled through the crypts, where we encountered one of Yngvarr’s men, who claimed that Yngvarr is seeking the ‘Heart of the Gods’.” Agnar nearly fell onto the bench behind him.

“He… he has found the Heart, then? We’ve been searching for hundreds of years…”

“What is this thing? Valfred claimed that there was no time to explain.”

“Long ago, when we came to this land, our people were dying. The whole island was rigid and freezing cold. It is now known as Olav’s Journey. During it, Olav met an avatar of Shor, Ahkrinviing, who tore out its Heart and gave It to him. Olav used It to transform the southern half of Falskaar into the warm, habitable region it is today. Ahkrinviing’s Heart was watched over by five guardians until the transformation was complete. Afterwards, the Heart was no longer needed. So to keep It safe, the five guardians sealed it in a chamber somewhere in the mountains. You need five Keys to enter the chamber. The Keys are of Leadership, Wealth, Wisdom, Strength, and Shelter. If Yngvarr attacked Borvald, it was undoubtedly to get one of the Keys.” Agnar scrubbed a hand across his face. “Please, sit down at the table in the main room while I send for the others.” I sat down at the table, at the far end. Agnar sent a servant to fetch the Hjorgunnars, and collected the monk himself, who was in the manor. Agnar and Brother Thorlogh sat down at the table as we waited for the Hjorgunnars to join us. The monk looked me over.

“Are you all right?” He asked me. “When was the last time you slept? Or ate?”

“I sleep when I tire, and feed when I hunger. Is that not enough?” I shot back.

“I’m just concerned about you. We all are.” He spoke, trying to soothe me. I curled my lip at him.

“None of you care beyond this ‘Traveller’ nonsense.” I spat. “Not one of you even knows who I am, beyond your alleged prophecy.”

“That’s not –” He began.

“Do not _dare_ say that it is not true. Not _one_ of you has even asked my name.” I seethed. The Hjorgunnars entered the manor, and I leaned back in my chair. The monk sighed and was silent.

“What’s wrong, Agnar?” Svegard asked, sitting down at the table.

“Yngvarr has attacked Borvald.” Agnar stated quietly. The brothers and the monk near simultaneously shouted in anger.

“What!?” Ulgar demanded.

“Why are we still sitting here, then? We must go help defend Borvald!” Svegard began to rise to his feet.

“Borvald has fallen.” I spoke, drawing their eyes. “It will have been burnt to the ground by now.”

“That son of a bitch!” Ulgar growled. “Our ancestors built Borvald over six hundred years ago. Yngvarr has destroyed part of our history.”

“It’s just like you to care about stupid buildings!” The monk snapped. “What about those living in the city?”

“Stupid buildings!?” Ulgar shot back. I sighed and rubbed my forehead.

“Certainly many innocent people died today. _They_ are who –”

“Enough!” Agnar interrupted Thorlogh. “We must not do this. Yngvarr was killed many of our innocent kinsman,” he nodded towards the monk, “as well as destroying our heritage.” He nodded towards Ulgar.

“Why would he do such a thing?” The monk asked, looking from me to Agnar.

“Based on what,” Agnar paused a moment, thinking, then continued with, “our friend here found out, he is going for the Heart of the Gods.” Silence fell across the table.

“Divines save us…” Ulgar breathed.

“He attacked the city to get the Key of Shelter, and he may now be going for the other Keys as well.”

“We _have_ to get the Keys before he does.” The monk spoke, frantic. “If Yngvarr gets the Heart of the Gods, he will be immortal. We must stop him.”

“I thought the Heart was just a myth… a legend.” Ulgar spoke.

“So did I.” Agnar admitted. “But if Yngvarr attacked Borvald to get the Key, the Heart must be real. The Keys have purpose after all.”

“Where can we get the other ones, then?” Svegard asked.

“Some are more obvious than others.” Agnar stated, rising from his chair. “Jalma, come here.” His wife walked into the main room.  
“What is it, Agnar?” She asked.

“Your necklace, please.” Her eyes widened.

“You don’t mean…” Her hands clutched at something about her throat.

“Yes, my dear.” Her hands slid behind her throat, her fingers working at something. “Thank you.” Jalma pulled a pendant from her throat, placing it in her husband’s hand. “It was passed down to each generation of Borvaldur women so that it would remain safe.” Agnar spoke to us now.

“So, we have one key.” Svegard gave a small smile.

“Great. But what about the others?” Ulgar grunted.

“The Key of Shelter was in Borvald, which Yngvarr now has. The Key of Wealth was held in Staalgarde, so count that one out as well. We have the Key of Leadership.” Agnar held up the pendant.

“So all we need are the Keys of Wisdom and Strength.” Svegard summarized, and Agnar nodded.

“Exactly. The question is, where are they?”

“The Key of Wisdom would have been held by the court mages.” Thorlogh commented. “It should be in our old monastery, Kalrun. The Key of Strength was held by the Hjorgunnars.” He nodded towards the brothers. “It was most likely locked in the crypts of Hjorgunnar Manor when it was abandoned.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Ulgar smiled broadly.

“Let’s go get those keys!” Svegard agreed. My lip curled at the thought of being sent on yet _more_ errands.

“Very well.” Agnar nodded. “We’ll split up to save time.” I raised a brow at the Jarl. “Thorlogh, you come with me to Kalrun Monastery.” The monk nodded his agreement. “You two go to Hjorgunnar Manor.”

“Yes, my Jarl.” Svegard bowed his head.

“We’ll meet back here when we have the Keys.” Agnar then looked over at me. “You must make a choice: help Ulgar and Svegard get the Key of Strength from Hjorgunnar Manor, or help Brother Thorlogh and I get the Key of Wisdom from Kalrun Monastery.” My decision was made before he finished speaking.

“I will accompany the brothers.” I nodded toward the Hjorgunnars. The monk did not appear to agree with my decision, but I did not care. The Hjorgunnars had been no more polite than either the Jarl or the monk himself, but they had been decidedly less _annoying._

“Good. We must beat Yngvarr to the Keys.” Agnar rose from his chair, as did the others. The four men and I left the manor, and while the monk and the Jarl went north, the brothers and I bore south.

* * *

 Hjorgunnar Manor was quite a bit farther south than even Bailun Priory was. I had thought that the Priory itself had been a fair bit ‘off the beaten path’, as the saying went, and the manor was even more so. The brothers spoke little on the journey, which suited me. I did not need to be coddled, or looked after, or whatever it was that the monk was attempting to do.

“You know,” Svegard spoke up, a few hours into the journey, “I’m not used to fighting with people when I don’t even know their name.” I shot him a glance. “What is yours?”

“I am Lycoris.” I told him. I wondered for a moment if he had spoken with the monk somehow, but dismissed it. We had parted ways with the Jarl and the monk immediately after leaving the manor. There had been no time to speak.

“Just Lycoris?” Svegard commented, brow raised. Listener. Champion. Archmage. All titles that would mean little or else nothing to him.

“Few of my people have anything more than a first name.” I told him, which was the truth.

“All right, then.” He shrugged a shoulder. “What kind of fighting experience do you have?”

“You need not worry after me.” I told him. “I have been wielding weapons for longer than you have been alive.” Both brothers jerked their heads to look at me.

“I know I’m not supposed to ask after a lady’s age…” Ulgar began, and I cut him off with a bark of laughter.

“I am not a _lady._ I never have been. But since you ask, I have lived for three hundred and fifty years.” I bit back more laughter as the pair of them actually _stopped_ in the middle of the road and stared at me. “You must not know many elves of any kind.”

“There aren’t a whole lot around here.” Svegard stated.

“Bosmer such as myself tend to live anywhere from three to four hundred years. Dunmer live for five to six hundred, while Altmer can live for a millennia. With magickal assistance, however, lifespans can be extended even longer.”

“‘Magickal assistance’?” Svegard repeated. I rolled my eyes at the typical Nordic distrust of all things magickal.

“I know of few ways. Divayth Fyr, for instance, a prominent Dunmer sorcerer of House Telvanni in Morrowind, is more than four thousand years old. That is, if he survived the cataclysm of the Red Year.” This prompted questions, and I launched into a discussion of the Red Year, which passed the time until we reached Hjorgunnar Manor.

“Ulgar and I believe the Key is an old amulet our great-grandfather had during the war a hundred years ago.” Svegard stated as we entered. “It would be somewhere near his tomb, in the lower crypts of the manor.” I nodded my understanding and summoned a Bound Bow, allowing the brothers to lead the way. “By the Gods, it’s been looted…” Svegard breathed as we made our way through. The house was almost bare – even much of the furniture was gone.

“Damn bandits!” Ulgar growled. “When we’re finished with Yngvarr, I’m going hunting.” I smirked. I might get on better with the pair than I had initially thought.

“That sounds like fun.” Svegard visibly brightened. “I’m in.” Looking around, I saw no sign of a family crypt or its entrance. “Ah, here we are.” I heard Svegard in the other room, and joined the brothers. Svegard had located a hidden door within a cabinet.

“Just where Papa said it was.” Ulgar agreed.

“Let’s go.” Svegard led the way down, his brother and I behind him. Down a set of stairs, and through a short hall found us in the beginnings of the family crypt.

“Even the coffins have been searched…” Ulgar looked around at the defiled coffins, their lids tossed aside and their occupants exposed to the air. I immediately ceased my breathing, but not before I caught a whiff. My nose wrinkled and I nearly gagged. The brothers did not have the luxury of stopping their breathing, and covered their faces.

“When you’re a looter,” Svegard managed to speak, “you have no morals. Watch out for draugr. They may have risen in malcontent.”  I reached into my pack and produced a pair of scarves.

“Would either of you happen to be carrying alcohol?” I asked, and two flasks were produced. I liberally doused the scarves with alcohol and handed one to each brother. “Tied about your face, it will dampen the smell.”

“What about you?” Svegard asked, and I belatedly prepared one for myself. I could not _believe_ that I had been so careless. The three of us pressed on, and the crypt led into older stonework. “I didn’t know about this.” Svegard looked around.

“They must have built the manor on top of Nordic ruins.” Ulgar commented.

“I hope our kinsmen don’t mind us popping in for a visit.” Svegard sounded uneasy. Further down, and we discovered that all the torches lining the walls were lit, and Svegard commented on it.

“I don’t know.” Ulgar replied. “Maybe someone was camped out in here and left them all on when they left.”  
“The torches would not have remained lit.” I stated. “They would have eventually burnt out. We are not alone.” Down another hall and one more door, we encountered the first of Yngvarr’s men.

“Bandits, here?” Svegard snapped, wiping blood from his blades.

“Dammit, they got here before we did.” Ulgar growled. I said nothing, only shook my head. I had told them that we had not been alone.

“Let’s go, we have to get that Key!” Svegard ran down the tunnel. There were more bandits than I had anticipated there being, and I had to heal the brothers after more than one skirmish. We finally came to the end, only to find that the Key was gone.

“It’s gone. The Key is gone!” Ulgar snapped.

“We can see as much ourselves.” I shot back. I heard something scrape across stone, and turned to see that a bandit was attempting to flee. I crossed the room in an instant, taking hold of his shirt and pinning him to the wall.

“Where’s the Key?” Svegard demanded of him.

“Uh, some of the other guys took it!” He managed, trembling.

“That much is obvious.” I growled. “Where did they take it?”

“They, uh, they were taking it to Bearclaw Cave. Yngvarr wants it. If you hurry you may still find it there.”

“Do the two of you know where this cave is?” I asked, not looking away from the bandit.

“Yes.” Svegard answered. I released the bandit’s shirt and snapped his neck.

“Then let us be off.”

* * *

 There were only three bandits within Bearclaw Cave, and they were quickly slain. The three of us nearly tore the cave apart in our search for the Key.

“Is this it?” I asked, holding up a pendant I had found in the rear of the cave.

“Yes!” Svegard crowed. “Let’s get back to Amber Creek. Jarl Agnar and Brother Thorlogh should be back by now.”

* * *

 We were approximately halfway back to Amber Creek when I realized something dire. I would need to feed, the sooner the better. I could not push myself this hard for so long without feeding at least once every two days. Once a day would be best. However, travelling with the Hjorgunnars meant that I could not. I would need to drain at least two bodies of blood at this rate, if not three. Animals would not be enough, unless I slaughtered half a herd of deer. The Hjorgunnars were liberally coated with blood, and the sound of their hearts beating was near enough to cause me to attack them where they stood.

“Svegard.” I finally choked out. I had ceased breathing some time earlier, and just having him step closer was almost too much.

“Are you all right? You don’t look well.” He frowned.

“I am not.” I shook my head. “I must part ways with you for a short time. Here.” I pressed the Key into his hands. “I will return to Amber Creek when I am able.”

“What’s wrong?” He reached out to touch me, and I turned away.

“No. Do not follow. I will be along as soon as I am able.” I spun about and ran into the woods.

“Lycoris!” I could hear both of them coming after me and I cursed. I had forgotten that they were hunters both. I picked up my pace. I would leave a more obvious trail, but I would leave them behind more quickly. I ran until I could no longer hear them following me, and then longer. Just because I could not hear them did not mean that they were not still tracking me. Luckily, I happened upon a cave in short order. I could smell animal blood and stale sweat, and I grinned. I crouched and made my way closer, seeing a handful of men and women sitting round a fire. All of them were wearing mismatched armor, and my grin widened. I cast a Mass Paralysis, and was able to catch the lot of them within it. I did not wish to fight, only to slake my thirst. I tore the head off the first in my haste, wasting a great deal of blood. I let out a piteous whine when I saw how much I had wasted. I was more careful with the second, and drained her within a matter of heartbeats. I drained two of the remaining three before the burning sensation in my throat subsided. I looked over at the last of them, the only one still living. I could not allow him to leave, not having seen my face. I snapped his neck, ending his life quickly. I took a deep breath and smiled to myself. I did not need to see my face to know that it was covered with blood, as was my armor. I burned the corpses, then found a river close by. I stripped my armor and washed it, then myself. A quick spell dried the lot of it, preventing the leathers from shrinking and the metal from rusting. “Lycoris!” I sighed.

“I am over here.” I called, still in the river. “You may not wish to draw much closer, however.” Svegard found me first.

“Lycoris, are you – oh.” He turned his back immediately. “Are you all right?”

“I am well.” I replied. Ulgar approached and saw his brother, then looked behind him, at me before following Svegard’s example. “I told you not to follow.” I stepped out of the river and spelled myself dry.

“Neither of us are very good at following orders.” Svegard stated. “What made you run off?”

“My business is my own.” I growled, stepping into my leathers. “I am older than the both of you, Agnar and his wife, and the monk _combined_ , almost twice over. Do you not think I can take care of myself?”

“Um…” Ulgar looked over at Svegard.

“You simply saw a little woman running off into the dark on her own, and you did not think twice of following her wishes.” I scoffed. “Be on your way. Should I need a _man_ to save me, I will be sure to let the two of you know first.” The pair appeared to leave, but Detect Life showed that they had not gone far. Crouching, I decided to teach them a lesson. Neither of them noticed my approach.

“Where did she go?” Ulgar murmured to his brother.

“I don’t know.” Svegard replied. I had not even cast Invisibility, and they had lost track of me.

“I do not know how either of you can claim to be hunters.” I commented, and the both of them jumped. Their pulses jumped even higher, and if I had not fed, I would have slain them both. “If you are _quite_ finished, we need to be on our way.” As we passed the cave where I had encountered the bandits, the Hjorgunnars halted.

“Do you smell that?” Ulgar asked.

“That is what remains of the bandits I happened upon before I went to the river.” I informed them. “They will bother no one any longer.”

* * *

 It was a matter of hours before we stood once more in Borvaldur Manor. Agnar and the monk had retrieved their Key, and had been back for some time. Svegard gave Agnar the Key, and the five of us sat once more at the table.

“What are we going to do next?” Svegard asked, carefully not looking at me. Every time he had, thus far, he turned crimson.

“Well, Yngvarr has two of the keys.” The monk began.

“Yeah, but we have three.” Svegard countered.

“Last I checked, three is higher than two.” Ulgar grinned. I leaned back in my chair and let out a small sigh.

“Ulgar has a good point.” Svegard commented.

“Yngvarr shouldn’t have _any_ Keys.” Thorlogh pointed out.

“Oh…” Ulgar’s face fell.

“Also a good point…” Svegard allowed.

“And I wouldn’t count on us getting those two Keys.”

“So then what do we do?” Ulgar echoed his brother’s earlier question. The men were silent for a few moments.

“The Heart Chamber.” The monk spoke, drawing eyes his way.

“The what?” Svegard asked.

“This is no time for poetry.” Ulgar stated.

“No, no.” The monk shook his head. “The Heart Chamber is the name of the underground cavern that was built to store the Heart of the Gods.”

“So what’s your point?” Svegard interrupted.

“I think he’s saying we need to find it.” Agnar commented. I had wondered who was going to pick up on that first. The monk was nodding.

“Exactly. Yngvarr may or may not know where it is. Either way, we have to find it.”

“And just how would we go about doing that?” Ulgar asked.

“The old scholars of Falskaar used to study in an old ruin to the northwest.” Thorlogh began, only to be interrupted by Svegard. _Again._

“Vizemundsted? We have all heard the stories.”

“Y'ffre’s bones, Svegard, _shut up._ ” I snapped. My eyes met his, and I knew my crimson eyes flashed from his flinch. “Let him speak.” Silence reigned for a handful of heartbeats.

“There was a book…” The monk began, and I gestured for him to continue. “A documentation of the Heart Chamber. It contained all sorts of information, including where it was built.” Agnar looked over at me before speaking.

“So we need that book?” He asked the monk, who nodded.

“How do we get it?” Svegard asked slowly, looking at me out of the corner of his eye.

“Someone has to go to Vizemundsted and get it.” The monk stated. ‘ _Someone’_ was going to be myself, if the previous trend continued.

“Okay, but who goes?” Ulgar asked.

“I have a town to run. I can’t just disappear into the mountains.” Agnar spoke.

“I’m not leaving your side again.” Svegard stated. “Yngvarr’s bandits were at Hjorgunnar Manor. They’re getting more dangerous.”

“They’re probably at Kalrun right now, pulling their hair out.” The monk chuckled.

“Then we stay here with Agnar.” Ulgar said. “That doesn’t leave many of us.”

“I’d love to go, trust me.” Brother Thorlogh told us. “But I fear I’m not much of a combatant, and dungeon delving isn’t my thing. Kalrun was already pushing it.”

“How do I get to the ruins?” I asked, looking around the table.

“Vizemundsted itself is in the northwest, as I said earlier, but that entrance is sealed.” Brother Thorlogh informed me. “According to legend, however, you can access it through Watervine Chasm, to the west.” I pushed my map across the table at him, and the monk marked its location. “It connects to a massive network of caverns, underground rivers, and ruins. It should lead you right into the library.” He handed the map back to me. “Once you’re in, look for a book called ‘The Heart Chamber’. That’s what we need. Then we can figure out where the Heart is, and stop Yngvarr from obtaining It.” I nodded and rose from my chair. Thorlogh stopped me with a hand on my arm. I shook him off and waited for him to speak. “It’s going to be a long journey, and I’m not sure what kind of dangers you’ll encounter. But I know you can do it. You haven’t much time. Be safe, and may Shor guide your journey.”

“You know nothing of elves, do you?” I commented. The monk shook his head and I scoffed. “I thought as much.” I left the manor, heading for the blacksmith. If what the monk had said was true, that meant that there would be monsters of all sorts as well as Yngvarr’s men. Swapping back and forth between physical weapons would be much faster than summoning and dispelling Bound Weapons. I obtained the smith’s permission to use his forge, and after purchasing the needed materials, I began to work. Ebony was a good material to work with; one of my favourites. I began forging a blade, using magick to quicken its creation.

“Mage, archer, blacksmith, and swordswoman? Is there anything you can’t do?” I looked up for a moment to see the monk watching me.

“I cannot live my life in peace.” I raised the hammer and brought it down on the blade. “What do you want?”

“I’m just trying to figure you out.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw him walk to the far side of the forge, where he would not be in my way, and lean against the railing. “You arrive here, not knowing anything about us or where you are, and you’ve done everything we’ve asked of you.”

“The sooner I am finished with you the sooner I will be able to leave.” I replied. I began the tapering, creating sharp edges on both sides of the blade. “Who sent you?”

“No one.” He answered, and I glared up at him for a moment. “I’m serious.”

“I find it hard to believe that you had no words with either Svegard or Ulgar.” I snapped.

“I can’t honestly say that they didn’t come and speak to me.” He told me. “They were concerned for you.”

“I am _three hundred and fifty **fucking**_ years old.” I snarled, tossing the blade into the trough to cool. I chilled the water with a spell, glaring at the monk. “If I had need of a nursemaid, I would _ask_ for one.”

“That isn’t the only thing you’re angry about.” The monk stated.

“You are correct. I allowed my anger to get the better of me earlier, and that should not have happened. It will not again.” I had spent a fair amount of time on the journey back to Amber Creek looking for an appropriate piece of wood for crafting a bow, and had found one that met my standards. The only fault it had was that it was too tall for me, but that was easily solved. I drew a small knife and began shaping my bow.

“That’s not what I expect you to do.” The monk sighed. “You said that we didn’t care outside of the prophecy.”

“Which is true.” I told him, not looking up. “The Hjorgunnars are the only ones outside of Jalma who have cared enough to ask for my name.” I paused, thinking. “No, that is not quite true. I gave her my name, she did not ask. So the brothers are the only who have thought to ask.”

“What is your name?” He asked.

“You expect me to believe that the brothers did not pass it along while they told their tale?” I glanced up at him, and his expression gave me my answer. “If you know it, then why ask?”

“Because it’s polite.”

“Save it for those who require it.” I set the bow aside and stood back at the forge, flattening ingots of ebony. They would be used to reinforce certain areas of the bow, so that I could use it to block a blade if necessary.

“What did you mean when you asked if I knew anything about elves?”

“Your Shor is my Lorkhan. Your hero- and creator-God is our Trickster. The elves believe themselves to be descended from the Aedra, and that He tricked them into giving up their divinity. He is blamed for our mortality. Trinimac, the hero of the Altmeri pantheon and worshipped by a great many Orcs, allegedly tore out Lorkhan’s Heart, meaning to destroy it. However, he could not, and he hid it instead. It did not remain hidden, but that is not the basis of our discussion.”

“A scholar as well?” The monk queried.

“I spent most of my first half-century of life in Morrowind. The legends surrounding Lorkhan’s Heart are common knowledge there.”

“Why were you in Morrowind?” He pressed.

“You press into matters that are not your concern.” I snarled. This was why I did not speak of myself. Whomever I was speaking to would ask far too much, more than I was willing to share. If I grew too close to people they died. I had learned that lesson, time and time again. My coven. My Family, twice now.

“Then I won’t press.” The monk raised his hands, palms facing towards him, in a gesture of peace. I had not thought he was a mage. Mundanes raised their hands palm out, but mages raised them palms inward, as a sign of non-hostility. He remained silent, simply watching me work. In a few hours, I had both bow and sword. I needed only to craft arrows. I began by whittling down firewood, of which there was plenty nearby. The monk still sat there, staring at me.

“Speak or begone. I do not need an audience.” I snapped. I was unused to being watched. The monk made to leave when I heard Mother’s voice.

_“Listener.”_

_“Mother, what do you require of me?”_ I answered her in my own tongue, not needing the monk to fuss over me any more than he was. As it were, he gave me an odd look as he left.

_“I have contracts for you. Muiri, in the city of Markarth, and Amaund Motierre, in the ruins of Volunruud. Both in Skyrim.”_

_“I will see to them immediately, Mother.”_ I promised.

_“See that you do.”_

* * *

 It was just under an hour before I had a fair number of arrows to use and I was ready to depart. I saw that the monk, the Jarl and the Hjorgunnars were waiting for me at the edge of town and my lip curled. This was the monk’s doing, I was certain. I took a different road out of town to avoid them. I encountered a scattering of beasts on my journey, but no bandits until I entered Watervine Chasm. All told, I spent more than half a day traversing Watervine Chasm, a Nordic ruin, and the Dwarven ruins of Vizemundsted. I ran out of my own arrows, and had to resort to stealing arrows from corpses. As I had expected, Watervine Chasm was overrun with Yngvarr’s bandits, which were dealt with easily enough. I encountered draugr in the Nordic ruins. Some were similar to those that the Hjorgunnars and I had slain at Hjorgunnar Manor, and others used some form of magick I had never seen before. They would… speak, or shout, in a language that was unknown to me, and nearly anything could happen. One had thrown me the length of the room. Another seemingly spat ice at me, and yet another _breathed fire_. I am not ashamed to admit that this one had drawn a small shriek from me before I was able to slay it. They seemed unable to be able to cast this magick more than once every few minutes, for which I was grateful. Vizemundsted had fewer Dwarven constructs throughout than I had anticipated. However, it held a Centurion towards the end. This one, unlike the one I had encountered at the very bottom of Echo Deep Mine, was whole and uninjured. I took a blow to the side from its hammer, and it had shattered my ribs. I eventually had to resort to summoning Atronachs and a Daedra to finish the creature so that I could heal myself. Leaving an injury untended for too long could result in permanent damage; something I would not risk. The Daedra sneered at me, opening its mouth to make a smart remark, like as not, and I sent it back to Oblivion. Seeing them reminded me all too much of the Oblivion Crisis, and I did not summon them often. Only in the direst of circumstances. I rested for a few hours, then set about searching for the book I had been sent after. Thankfully, Dwarven ruins leaned toward dry and clean; not a home for pests. Thus the book was in very good condition. Nonetheless, I wrapped it in a spare set of clothes and slipped it into my pack. I made good time back to Amber Creek, seeing as I was able to use the Vizemundsted exit and did not need to retrace my steps through the Chasm. As I walked into the town I could smell blood in the air. Human blood. I frowned and picked up my pace. Agnar, the monk, and the Hjorgunnar brothers stood in a circle surrounding a lone man in the middle of town.

“He’ll kill me if I tell you!” The man cried. One of Yngvarr’s men, I presumed, looking at the other bodies littering the roadside.

“And I’ll kill you if you don’t. Where are they?” Agnar growled. The bandit threw up his hands, cowering.

“Okay, okay! They’re at Fort Urokk! He wanted them taken there, but I don’t know why! I swear, I don’t know why!”

“Very well. Svegard!” Agnar looked over at the man.

“I’m on it.” Svegard nodded, drawing his blade. My lip curled as he cut the bandit down. My respect for Agnar plummeted.

“You’re here at a convenient time.” Agnar spoke. My sneer remained as I regarded him.

“I found the book.” I told the monk, handing it to him.

“Yngvarr has crossed yet another line.” Agnar said, ignoring my statement. “He attacked the town, and while we were out fighting his men, more snuck in and…” he broke off, looking away. “They took Jalma and Wilhard.”  The monk had been perusing the book while Agnar spoke.

“Good news, everyone!” He looked up, smiling. “The book has the location of the Heart Chamber and much else. This is wonderful!”

“Then let us not waste any more time. We are going to Fort Urokk to save my wife and child.” Agnar stated.

“Of course, my Jarl. We are ready.” Ulgar brought his fist to his chest in a salute.

“Shall we meet near the fort to plan the attack?” Svegard asked, and Agnar nodded.

“Yes. That’s what we’ll do.” Agnar looked over at me. “Will you help us attack Fort Urokk and save my family?”

“Not for _you_.” I snarled. “For _them,_ however, I will.” I knew what the fates of women and children prisoners were, and I would not leave anyone to that. The men seemed taken aback by my vitriol, but I did not care.

“Meet us at the base of the cliffs below Fort Urokk. We are going to break in and get my family back.” I turned on my heel and walked to the forge, intending to craft more arrows.

 _“He is lucky that I have shown restraint.”_ I growled to myself. _“Also that he is so well-loved by his people. I do not think that any of them will be performing the Black Sacrament in the near future.”_ I sat down near the forge and nearly tore the first log of firewood apart. I took a deep breath and calmed myself before attempting to continue. A display of inhuman strength would be detrimental. The people of Falskaar must have little to no knowledge of the Sacrament or the Dark Brotherhood, or else Yngvarr would likely have performed the ritual by this point. _“Too high-born to dirty your own blade with the blood of a mere bandit?”_

“Are you aware that you’re not speaking in Common?”

“I am _very_ well aware.” I growled at the monk.

“What’s set you off this time?” He asked, sounding almost amused.

“I have completed every task that has been laid before me, and after over half a day spent trawling underground in search of your book I am willing to come and rescue Agnar’s family. What more do you wish from me?” I growled, not looking away from my task.

“You said you wanted to leave when this is over, but you won’t be going anywhere if you run yourself into the ground.” The monk stated. “How are you still on your feet?”

“As I said before, if I required a nursemaid, I would ask for one.” The monk sighed.

“Why won’t you let us help you?” He asked.

“Because I do not require your aid.” I snapped, standing to begin crafting arrowheads. He was silent for a time.

“How did Jarl Valfred pass?” He asked. I had not expected the question, and my hand slipped on the hammer, causing it to smack into the side of the anvil.

“Do you know of the crypts beneath Borvald?” I looked over at him, and he nodded. “I had not been in the city long when we received word that the bandits had arrived. Valfred, Goran and I fought through the city to the crypts. Goran elected to remain behind to hold off those that he could, while Valfred and I pressed on. We made our way through 'til the end. Valfred told me to jump into the lake, and when I attempted to convince him to jump with me, he pushed me over the ledge. The city exploded before I hit the water. He did not have the chance to jump.” I turned back to my work.

“I see.” Thorlogh let out a breath. “He was a good man.” I remained silent. I had not known the man long enough to form an opinion one way or another. The monk remained as I crafted my arrowheads and began attaching them to shafts. Were I not a vampire, I might have forgotten he was there.

“Is there something _else_ you wish to ask of me?” I asked, once I finished with the arrowheads. “I am surprised that you yet remain.”

“The others haven’t left yet either.” He informed me. “The Jarl wants to wait until everyone’s ready to leave and travel together.” I rolled my eyes. It was a good thing, then, that I had fed on my return journey. I reached into my pack for the feathers I had collected and began the process of fletching the arrows.

“You did not answer my question.” I stated.

“I’m still trying to figure you out.” He admitted.

“Understanding is not necessary to make use of me.” I replied. The monk let out a sigh.

“We are not trying to _use_ you.” I smirked to myself. It seemed as though he was becoming aggravated by my behaviour.

“Perhaps _you_ are not.” I allowed. “But that does not discount the others. Your Jarl, especially.”

“What makes you think that?” He asked. “You could have refused any of the things he’s asked of you.”

“He has not even told me how I can leave.” I snapped, looking over at him. His eyes widened.

“Just go to the docks. Wulf runs a ship back and forth to Skyrim and other ports.”  I looked back to my work and let out a small sigh. “All you needed to do was ask.”

“I did ask.” I told him. “He then changed the subject to my status as ‘the Traveller’.” I tied the feathers onto the shafts.

“You thought you were trapped here?” He asked quietly, and I did not answer. “That explains a lot.” He did not speak again as I completed my work.

“I am ready to leave.” I told him, rising to my feet. He nodded and pushed himself off the wall. “You are going to fight in your robes?” I asked, raising a brow.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” He shot me a smile. I scoffed at his foolishness and walked past him to where the other three men were. Agnar looked over the monk and I before nodding and leading the way down the road.

* * *

 The men chatted amongst themselves, a fruitless attempt to distract Agnar from the situation at hand. I remained silent, trailing behind them and watching for bandits. The brothers made enough noise for a handful of men alone, and if Yngvarr had meant to set an ambush they would have been easy prey. Surprisingly, however, we arrived at Fort Urokk without incident. Had I been in Yngvarr’s place, I would have had us attacked while we were enroute to the Fort. Yngvarr had was we – Agnar – desired, and Agnar had three of the Keys.

“How would you describe Yngvarr to one who did not know him?” I asked Brother Thorlogh, who was nearest to me. “Would you call him a braggart? Does he over-glorify his achievements?” The monk raised a brow.

“I suppose that descriptor might come up. Can I ask why you’re asking?”

“Because we were not attacked on our journey here. We are expected.” I smirked when the monk’s eyes widened. “I am surprised that you did not realize this yourself. It is unlikely that Yngvarr suspected that one of us would realize this. We were meant to run headlong into the fort, with no thoughts of anything but rescue.” Any number of scenarios could be meant to play out, if that were the case. Thorlogh picked up his pace to walk beside Agnar and told him of my thoughts. Agnar looked back at me and nodded before continuing onwards. I was unsure if that was meant to be a ‘thank you’, or acknowledgment that he had come to the same conclusion. It mattered little, for the plan was unchanged.

“We are entering through the old sewer.” Agnar stated, stopping. “Hopefully it’s lightly guarded and we can get in without alerting the entire fort.” Svegard and Ulgar, perhaps recalling the manor, produced scraps of cloth and doused them in alcohol. We each received one, and once we were all prepared, Agnar moved to lead the way.

“Do you wish to see your wife and child again?” I snapped, drawing four pairs of eyes.

“What kind of question is that? Of course I do!” Agnar growled.

“Then allow another to lead. If you take a dire injury in your foolhardy quest and I am unable to reach you in time you will die.”

“I know Restoration magick.” Thorlogh protested.

“I doubt that your spells are as advanced as mine own. I have yet to meet another outside of a magickal institute who can claim such, and none of them were human.” I told him, pushing past Agnar.

“And what if _you_ are injured?” Ulgar asked.

“It is unlikely that I will be unable to reach _myself_ in time if I am injured.” I deadpanned. “You will wait one minute –”

“Absolutely not!” Agnar cut in.

“You will agree to wait, or I will cast Mass Paralysis.” I glared up at him. “The spell takes longer than a minute to wear off.” Agnar looked over at Brother Thorlogh, who shook his head.

“We will wait.” He sighed.

“Y'ffre grant all men such wisdom.” I muttered, opening the sewer gate. I climbed down the ladder and crouched, drawing my bow. Unsurprisingly, the sewers were empty. No guard, no matter how well paid, had any desire to stand guard over a sewer. I marked my passage on the wall at slight intervals so that the men knew which way I had gone. I reached the far end and listened carefully for a few moments. After hearing nothing, I opened the grate and slipped through. I left it open slightly, so that it would pass a quick inspection but that the men would have no trouble with it. I cast Detect Life in my right hand while carrying my bow in my left as I made my way up into the main part of the fort. The bandits I encountered were swiftly dispatched with an arrow or a spell. I paused only to collect my own spent arrows, and any others that passed a swift inspection. I heard the men behind me a handful of times as they caught up with me.

“You travel quickly in a minute.” Thorlogh commented as he drew close. “Especially in the dark.”

“You have never heard of the Night Eye or Detect Life spells?” I asked. I had no need of the former spell, but I knew it nonetheless.

“I have heard of Detect Life, but not Night Eye.” He replied.

“I find myself unsurprised.” I deadpanned. “We must remain as quiet as possible. As was said earlier, we do not wish to bring the entirety of the fort down upon ourselves.” Of the four, the monk was the most adept at sneaking. I suspect it was only because he wore robes. Agnar, Svegard and Ulgar made more than enough noise to compensate for the two of us, however. With the four of them accompanying me it was no surprise when we were detected far earlier than I would have been, had I been alone. I saw one bandit’s eyes widen and he opened his mouth to sound an alarm. A well-placed arrow halted his cry. Agnar let out a war cry as he charged forward, weapons at the ready. Ulgar and Svegard followed soon after, while Thorlogh remained near me, spells in one hand and blade in the other. When the bandits were slain I turned my crimson eyes on the Jarl. “Did you mishear me? Or, perhaps, misinterpret my actions?” He narrowed his eyes at me. “I slew the one bandit afore he was able to raise an alarm, but you raised one for them. Now, every single person within earshot knows that there is something amiss, and the others will know shortly after. Our attempts at stealth have been rendered futile.” I gestured for him to lead. “You may as well, now.” Agnar opened his mouth to speak and I stopped him with a shake of my head. Thankfully, there were only a handful of bandits left until we found Jalma and Wilhard, locked within a cell.

“Jalma! Wilhard! You’re alright!” Agnar smiled at his family. His wife smiled back.

“Man, everyone’s here! Brother Thorlogh, Svegard, and Ulgar!” Wilhard smiled broadly at the men and turned to look at me. “And you, you must be the Traveller! These guys are in trouble now!”

“Lycoris.” Jalma murmured to her son, who nodded, still smiling.

“Stand back, you two. Ulgar, get the door.” Agnar commanded, gesturing towards the cell. I raised a brow, expecting the burly Nord to attempt to kick the door down. I was surprised to see him kneel and pick the lock instead. As soon as the door was open, Jalma leapt into her husband’s arms, while Wilhard hugged the Jarl about the waist. I tipped my head to one side as a horn sounded through the fort.

“It seems that we have been discovered. It was too much to hope that they would not stumble upon their slain compatriots.”

“We’ll bar the door we came through so that we can’t be ambushed through there.” Agnar stated. “That leaves two doors, but the key we have only fits one of them. You take it and go on ahead while we see if we can’t get the other door down.” He handed the key to me and I nodded, my blade in my right hand with Chain Lightning in my left. There were perhaps a dozen bandits in my path before I reached a ladder leading outside. The same Orc that Jarl Valfred and I had encountered in the crypts stood before me.

“You again?” He growled. “You may be able to get into my fort, but you’ll never get the Key! I’ll –” I rolled my eyes partway through his speech and shot an Ice Spike into his face. It was possible that he still carried the Key of Shelter, and so I searched him. The Orc must have come straight to Fort Urokk after decimating Borvald, for he still bore the pendant. With a small grin upon my lips I returned to Agnar and the others. The door that they had previously been unable to open now lay in pieces on the floor.

“I have the Key of Shelter.” I handed Agnar the pendant, and he slipped it into a pocket.

“You ran into Lieutenant Kolgrim, then.”

“I do not know his name. He was an Orc, the same one I saw within the bowels of Borvald.”

“He was Yngvarr’s second in command. With him dead, the fort is without a commander.”

“Which leaves us with an advantage that we should make use of.” I stated.

“I agree. We will clear the base. I want you to find the mechanism to open the gates, and then we’ll meet up in Amber Creek.” He turned to face the others. “Let’s show those bastards what we’re made of!”

* * *

 It did not take me very long to open the gates. However, there were far more bandits than I think Agnar had anticipated. I leapt down from the tower and landed upon a bandit, breaking my fall and his spine. I charged the bandits from behind, using spells like Chain Lightning, Mass Paralysis and Mayhem to full effect. Once the bandits were slain, I ensured that any injuries the others had taken were healed.

“We must hurry. Yngvarr cannot be far.” I commented as I checked Wilhard.

“What makes you say that?” Agnar asked.

“This was a trap of some sort. He meant for us to be here. He would not have taken your family otherwise.”

“A poorly planned trap.” Ulgar grumbled.

“Ah, Agnar.” The others heard Yngvarr’s voice, but I was the only one able to pinpoint where it came from. Yngvarr and his men had us blocked in. “What are you doing here? Oh, of course, flocking to help the people.” Yngvarr nudged his horse forwards as he looked around the fort. “I don’t see Kolgrim anywhere. No matter. He was about as competent as a chicken fighting a pack of wolves.” I had my bow in hand and an arrow nocked, waiting for Yngvarr to reach some point. A man as arrogant as he might divulge important information, thinking he was the only one who could make use of it.

“This is between you and me, Yngvarr.” Agnar spoke. “Let the others go.”

“It was, at first, but it’s not anymore.” Yngvarr dismounted. “You asked for help from Thorlogh and the Hjorgunnars. You got them involved. If they die in this, it’s all on you.”

“Don’t listen to him, Agnar.” Svegard cut in.

“Does he really have the two of you wrapped around his finger? How long are you going to let him pull your strings?” Yngvarr scoffed and shook his head. “And what of the prophetic ‘Traveller’?” Yngvarr’s lip curled as he looked over at me. “You’re not even a Nord, but you fight for him? Foolish.” I shrugged a shoulder and remained silent. Yngvarr walked over towards Agnar. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll let them go – _if_ you give me the Keys.” Yngvarr spoke over the protests that the others made. “You, however, I will not let go. You’ve orchestrated all of this and caused me far too much trouble.”

“Don’t, Agnar.” Ulgar spoke up. “He won’t let us go.”

“He is _not_ a man of his word.” Svegard stated.

“I have no choice.” Agnar said quietly. “Just know this, Yngvarr. You can kill me, but it will only be your undoing. My people will keep fighting in my stead, in my memory, and do you know why? It’s because as their leader, I served them. A king is only as strong as his loyalty towards his people. You lie to and trick your people. You are not a king. You are not worthy of Falskaar’s throne. I help my people when they need me, and let them rule themselves when they don’t. But above all, I defend them. I fought for them, and they will do the same for me.”

“There has to be another way!” Thorlogh called out.

“There is no other way.” Yngvarr shot back.

“We could kill you now.” I raised my bow, drawing the string to my cheek. “With you dead, your people will be of little issue. They fight only for your coin, and with you not alive to pay it, they will abandon your cause.” Yngvarr chuckled, looking over at Agnar.

“That would be dishonorable.” Agnar said softly.

“After everything this man has done, you still intend to treat him honorably?” I snapped, looking over at the Jarl. “You are a fool. When this man stabs you in the back yet again, do not cry to me.” I lowered my bow, shaking my head. Agnar handed the Keys to Yngvarr, and he climbed back onto his horse.

“Thank you, Agnar. I’ll be going now.” He turned the horse around. “Kill all of them.” I raised my bow once more and loosed my arrow at Yngvarr. I heard him cry out, but with three of the men he had left behind advancing on me I could not look at my handiwork. I tossed my bow aside and drew my sword in one hand while readying a spell in the other. With the better part of two dozen men arrayed against us, we were going to need every advantage.

“Thorlogh! Take Jalma and Wilhard back inside the gates! Keep them safe!” I ordered, casting a Mass Paralysis. Half a dozen men fell to the ground. “Everyone stay back!” I tossed a Chain Lightning into the pile of paralyzed bodies. My allies had heeded my words, as none of them were struck by my spell. Looking at the others, I saw that Thorlogh must have listened as well, for I could not see him. Svegard was fighting with his back to his brother, while the Jarl fought alone. I saw that an enemy was attempting to sneak behind him, so I quickly cast and threw a Bound Dagger at the man. It sunk into the exposed flesh at the back of his neck between his helmet and his cuirass. A man rushed at me, swinging a two-handed sword wildly. I blocked with my own blade and threw an Ice Spike into his chest. I kicked his body aside and moved on to the next enemy, of which there were few remaining. I slew the only archer with a quick Thunderbolt while the men took care of the remaining three.  I cast Detect Life to ensure that we were the only living things in the area. When I dispelled it, the Jarl approached me.

“We must get back to Amber Creek. We haven’t much time. Yngvarr has all five of the keys,” I sneered as he spoke, “and he probably knows where the Heart is. If he gets to the Heart, it will make him immortal. We are going to gather our army and end this, once and for all.”

* * *

 I was angry at the Jarl, but that anger did not extend to his men and women who would be fighting for him. I spent much of the day assisting the blacksmith and his apprentice, forging weapons and armor, and crafting arrows. We were brought food and drink, and while I did not require it, I partook of it to maintain my illusion of normalcy. I asked a handful of men to bring the Arcane Enchanter from the Jarl’s longhouse to the forge, and I enchanted items when I was not standing over the forge. Svea from the general store sent over her supplies of soul gems, and I enchanted a bow with Soul Trap and sent some men off hunting. Brother Thorlogh was a fair enchanter, and useful in that regard. I knew of more weapon enchantments than he did, but he knew a fair amount of health and stamina enchantments. He attempted to engage me in conversation a number of times, but if it was not related to the work we had before us I ignored him. He was the only one with whom I had travelled to Fort Urokk that I saw until the Jarl sent for me. 

“Tell him I am occupied. If he needs to speak with me, he will need to come here.” The messenger did not appear to appreciate my answer, and I hid a small grin. However, the Jarl surprised me by coming down to the forge.

“I hear that you’ve been busy since we returned.” He commented, nodding towards the pile of enchanted weaponry.

“What do you need from me?” I asked, not looking away from my work.

“Nearly all of our forces are here. We are going to lay siege to Staalgarde. It’s on the far side of the Emerald Valley, to the east. While you’ve been doing this, I sent Ulgar and Svegard ahead with a group of soldiers to clear the path into the valley. They’re probably setting up our base camp as we speak. It won’t be much longer before we head out.”

“Is that all you needed? Some of these enchantments can be difficult to place.” If I had looked up at him, I am certain I would have seen him frowning down at me.

“Is there anything that we can do to help you?”

“You can leave me in peace.” I answered, and he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANYTHING THAT YOU DO NOT IMMEDIATELY RECOGNIZE IS PROPERTY OF ALEXANDER J. VELICKY AND HIS “Falskaar” MOD. I HAVE OBTAINED PERMISSION TO INCLUDE IT IN THIS FIC.  
> The whole feeding/bandits/lake scene is, as you might have guessed, completely me. Also, I repeat that I have changed some small pieces of dialogue, but other than this it's essentially the same thing. Also: in the mod, you’re supposed to travel with Ulgar to clear out the valley. But since I already had her doing something else and there was gonna be another big fight scene coming up soon I figured I’d let the brothers go do it instead. This is the only other thing that I've changed. I apologize for the amount of time between updates. We’ll see the end of “Falskaar” in the next chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

It took a handful of hours for us to reach Staalgarde, where the Hjorgunnars and a handful of remaining men were waiting. I recognized the young guardsman who had greeted me upon my arrival. He shot me a smile and walked over to me.

“At least the rain will provide some cover.” He commented, gesturing towards the gathering clouds. We were to rest for a few hours and then march on the city. I nodded my agreement, but said nothing. His smile fell. “Are… are you scared? I’m sworn to protect this land and its people, but I’m a bloody guard. Nothing of this scale has ever happened to me. Then again, we’ve got Jarl Agnar leading us. There’s no way we can lose… right?”

“Trust in your blade, and in those who fight beside you.” I counselled. “The Jarl cannot be in all places at once.” The man nodded and smiled once more.

“Fair point. Maybe I’ll see you again, after the battle. Shor watch over you.”

“Y'ffre guide your hand.” I replied.

* * *

The Jarl gave a short speech, and we marched. I cast Call to Arms on the men marching with me then drew my bow. I nocked an arrow and watched the field before us. The men and women of Staalgarde wore dark colours, and were thus easy to tell from those of Amber Creek’s forces. However, it also enabled them to avoid detection in the pouring rain and early morning light. I raised a hand and cast Detect Life on myself then raised my bow, picking off the few soldiers attempting to sneak towards us. We arrived at the city gates with little issue. Three of the men with me charged those standing before the gates, while I raised my bow and picked off the soldiers lining the walls. Two other men snuck around to open the gate. The gates opened with a crash and Staalgarde’s soldiers poured out. I forced my way through the fighting to fire arrows upon unsuspecting enemy backs. Three men remained of the forces I had set out with, but more were coming. I saw to the three men’s wounds as we waited for our reinforcements.

“Why did you rush off ahead?” Agnar demanded when he saw me.

“I did not think that Yngvarr would leave his gates open, and I was correct. We can now freely enter the city.” I answered. “I lost only two men in this skirmish. I do not think that another could say the same. In any event, it matters little. We must press on.” I turned on my heel and nocked an arrow, leading the way further into the city. The guardsman – Olaf? – walked on my right. 

“You’ve never been here before. Let me help.”

“Very well. But do not walk in front of me.” I cautioned, and he nodded. Agnar caught up and walked on my left side. We fought our way through the city, both men ensuring that I had both the time and space to fire upon the enemy. One man slipped around them, and I kicked the man in the stomach, sending him flying into a close building. He hit the wall with a clatter and slumped to the ground. I fired the arrow I had been aiming as he drew close and lowered my bow. I drew a dagger from a sheath on my right thigh and quickly cut the man’s throat. I wiped the blade on his cloak before returning it to its sheath. Agnar and the guardsman were wiping their own blades clean.

“I didn’t see that one get by –” the guardsman began, but I waved off his apologies.

“It is no matter. The man is dead, and that is what matters.” I looked at Agnar. “How much further?”

“Yngvarr can’t be far.” He pointed to a building. “Let’s check this one first.”

“I’ll stay out here.” The guardsman – Olson? – spoke up. “So that everyone knows where you’ve gone to.” Agnar nodded to the man, and I followed the Jarl up the hill. The building he guided us to appeared to have been the guards’ barracks, at one point. He pushed the door open, and I followed him in. a handful of men were arrayed against us as we entered.

“You’re too late!” Yngvarr crowed, stepping in from another room. “I’m off to get the Heart now.” My lip curled and my hand twitched to reach for an arrow, but Yngvarr had learned his lesson, it seemed. Three of his men were armed with bows.

“How did you find out where it was?” Agnar demanded.

“You helped with that one.” Yngvarr smirked. “When I took your wife and kid, I was going to interrogate them to find out. However, on my way there I got word that you have flocked to save them. How… heroic.” His smirk fell into a sneer. “With you and your little clan gone, it was easy enough for my men to sneak into town and get that book.” I turned a heated glare on Agnar.

“You didn’t know where it was until then?” Agnar sounded as though he had finally realized the depths of his folly.

“Not until you were all kind enough to show me! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must be going.” Yngvarr gave a little half-bow and left. Agnar let out a cry and rushed forward, shield raised. He slammed into one of the fighters. I drew an arrow while they were distracted by him and took down one of the archers. I quickly summoned a Familiar and had him attack the second archer whilst I fired on the third. Agnar had cut down one of the two melee-fighters and was fighting the other. The man I fired on ducked beneath the first arrow, then dropped his bow and drew an axe from his belt. As he rushed towards me, I tossed my bow aside and drew my sword. I danced away from the first swing of his axe and shot a blast of lightning at his chest. The shock caused him to stumble, tripping forward. I took a quick step to my right and the man fell to the floor. I leaned over and stabbed my blade through the back of his throat. Agnar had killed the one man, and was finishing off the one my Familiar had started on. Once that man was dead, my Familiar walked to my side.

“We must go after him immediately! His city is razed, and his army defeated. His only hope now is to get to the Heart of the Gods. The temple is to the west of here. Let’s go.” I curled my lip at him as he walked away. My bow had been snapped during the fighting, and was now useless. I cursed and followed the Jarl from the building.

“You just missed Yngvarr!” Thorlogh called out.

“We tried to stop him, but he was on his horse and just rode right through.” Svegard informed us.

“He’s heading for the Heart Chamber. We must follow him immediately.” The guardsman – Oliver? – was still close at hand. “Tell the men to take care of the dead and wounded as best they can. Send some back to Amber Creek, in case Yngvarr has something else planned.”

“Of course, my Jarl.” The guardsman bowed and hurried away.

* * *

Brother Thorlogh, the Hjorgunnars, the Jarl and I took a long, winding path through the mountains, leading first north and then bearing west. As the sun rose the day grew warmer, and the men in their heavier armour began to feel weary. The monk, in his robes, was well enough. He and I pumped the other three men full of Restoration magick, and I continued to do so when the monk’s magicka fell low. I had been practicing magick for nigh on three hundred years, and in addition to my armor being enchanted in the manner that it was, I could cast spells far longer than the average hedge-mage, or even schooled mage, was capable. Those that were human, at any rate. A Thalmor Justiciar of over five centuries could out-spell me, almost every single time. Thinking on the Thalmor brought my mind to the Brotherhood and Cicero. I had been gone for the better part of two weeks. Would he think his newly-found Listener slain, so soon after he had found her?

“Here we are.” Thorlogh said, bringing me out of my far-away thoughts. “The Heart Chamber.” It was a massive ruin in the middle of seemingly nowhere, surrounded by centuries old trees.

“There was some manner of gate here, once.” I commented, looking at the ground between two pillars. “I wonder if it was Yngvarr’s men who removed them, or some other force?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Agnar stated. “We must find Yngvarr, before it’s too late.” He made his way to the temple doors and pushed one open. I had expected the ancient hinges to scream in protest, but I was proven wrong. Yngvarr’s men must have oiled them, for whatever reason. The five of us stepped inside.

“Sheathe your weapons.” Ulgar murmured. “We walk on holy ground.” As the men sheathed their weapons, I rolled my eyes but sheathed my blade regardless. I called spells to hand, ready to cast at a moment’s notice. There was a dais, or altar, of some kind further into the room, and Brother Thorlogh ran ahead to inspect it.

“The Keys are in place,” he called back, “Yngvarr must already be inside. We must hurry!” We hurried through the first room, and then a small hallway, and exited into a large chamber. I could scarce see the far wall. Yngvarr and a small number of men were waiting for us. Behind and above them stood a trio of wizards, plying their magick to bring down a brightly coloured barrier.

“Ah, you’re just in time.” Yngvarr spoke, taking a few steps forward. “After all, nobody’s been in here for six hundred years. I would hate for you to miss this… momentous occasion. I’d already have the heart, but it appears to have some kind of magical shield around it. Something that book of yours forgot to mention.” He gave a nonchalant shrug. “But no worries, my mages assure me that they can remove the shield in a timely fashion. Those Keys you gave me worked wonderfully.”

“What are you doing this for, Yngvarr? Why must you vie for such power?” Thorlogh demanded.

“I do not want _power_. I want what is rightfully mine!” Yngvarr shouted. “Do you know what it’s like to have something that is yours taken from you and then displayed, just out of reach, every single day of your life? Hjalmar led the group that discovered Falskaar for years. They were loyal to him. Then, just because he wasn’t the one that helped them, they all flocked to Olav… forgetting the services that Hjalmar had provided. To this day the Borvaldurs remain on the throne that they took from my family. A throne that is not theirs.” I let out a sigh and shook my head. Such utter _childishness_ , over events that had taken place centuries previously.

“The throne is not something you’re entitled to, Yngvarr.” Ulgar countered. I rose a brow at him.

“The people have the right to choose their leader. They chose the Borvaldurs.” Svegard added, and my other brow rose to join the first. I had never seen any ruler willing to allow the people to choose who led them. It simply was not the way things were done. “They’ve done nothing but provide wisdom and help, while your family does nothing but cause trouble for the people.”

“That is not true!” Yngvarr shouted.

“How did you get your people to follow you so loyally?” Agnar asked. Yngvarr said nothing.

“You promised them power, didn’t you?” Thorlogh chuckled, a sound full of disbelief. “You would get the Heart, and use it for them.”

“You lied to your people. That is the worst thing that a king can do.” Agnar stated, and I looked over at him. Was the man insane? That was just how things _were_. Those in power used it for themselves, and lied to the people. That was simple politics. “You betrayed your city. How could you possibly hope to rule all of Falskaar?”

“I will not stand here being assailed by your petty claims.” Yngvarr huffed. “Admit it, Agnar. You’ve lost. After all this time and smooth sailing, you’ve failed.” Behind him, the barrier fell. “You have let your family and your people down. Now, don’t any of you move. I’ll make this quick.” Yngvarr smirked and turned around, beginning up the small incline.

“We have to do something, Agnar!” Svegard looked desperately at his Jarl.

“We must stall him.” Thorlogh whispered. Agnar looked at Yngvarr’s retreating back and squared his shoulders.

“Duel me.” Agnar called, his voice ringing through the chamber. Yngvarr stopped dead.

“Excuse me?” Yngvarr turned back to look at Agnar.

“You heard me. I am challenging you to a round of combat. No guards, none of my companions. Just you and me.”

“Agnar…” The monk began quietly, but was silenced by a quick gesture from Agnar.

“If you have a single drop of honour in your blood you’ll accept, or forever be known as a coward.” Agnar continued. Yngvarr’s men looked to their leader. Yngvarr did not answer immediately. When he did, it was with a laugh.

“Fine. I’ll play your little game.” He came back into the middle of the chamber. “But fighting an old man wouldn’t be much of a challenge, would it?” Yngvarr smirked, and his eyes fell on me. “I want to fight the Traveller. This woman comes waltzing through the gateway, supposedly foretelling some ‘grand tragedy’ that is to plague the land. Certainly she must be special. _She_ will provide a challenge, so I want to fight _her_.” My lip curled as the man regarded me.

“You must do it.” Svegard told me, speaking quietly.

“You aren’t a Nord, but you must still have some code of honour. You must fight Yngvarr in my stead. But do not fight for your honour. Fight for the honour of the people of Falskaar.” Agnar pleaded.

“Nords are all alike, no matter where I find them.” I sighed and drew my sword, walking towards Yngvarr.

“This is going to be fun.” Yngvarr grinned and drew an ebony mace from his belt. Yngvarr wore some form of modified ebony armor, which meant that I would need to be careful. Not every blow I landed would hurt him, while even one from him could end our fight. He let out a war cry and charged at me. I threw down a Fire Rune and danced a few steps backwards. Yngvarr leapt over it and raised his mace above his head. I rolled to my left, and he swung his mace after me. I felt the air of its passage over my head. I drew my dagger from its sheath on my thigh and stabbed it between the plates near his hips. He let out a cry of pain and I pulled my weapon free. He swung around, mace in hand, and I jumped back, out of his range. He began to favour his right hip, but I did not think I had injured him so grievously. I scented the air, and found little blood on it. He was not as injured as he pretended. I threw a Thunderbolt at him, and he quickly stepped to his left… directly into my previously undisturbed Fire Rune. The fur on his armor caught fire, and he pulled it off and threw it aside. The man was unused to fighting mages. I could see it on his face, in the anger that was plain for all to see. I had made a fool of him, and he was not the kind of man to let me get away with such. With another shout, he rushed towards me. I stood my ground. He pulled back his mace to strike, and I caught his fist while it was still in the air. I hooked my right foot behind his left knee and pulled. Yngvarr fell to the ground. He swung his mace backhanded, hitting my right leg just above the knee. My armor protected little in that area, and I felt my femur break. I let out a cry of pain and fell to the ground. “Enough! Hold them!” Yngvarr shouted, climbing to his feet. His trio of mages cast a Mass Paralysis spell on the monk, the Jarl, the brothers and I.

“Son of a bitch!” Svegard shouted. Yngvarr made his way up the incline, pushing past his men and mages. I was trapped, like a rat in a cage. I pushed against the spell with every ounce of magicka I had for naught. Yngvarr had reached the top of the incline.

“Finally, the Heart of the Gods is mine!” A loud cry echoed through the chamber. We all turned out gazes toward the sound. An illusory dragon flew through the chamber, making its way toward Yngvarr. It plucked him up in its claws and flew away. A line of flames burst into life at the top of the incline, making its way downward. Yngvarr’s trio of mages were the first to fall to it.

“We have to get out of here!” Brother Thorlogh called out. “If we take the Keys the door to the chamber should close, and the fire should stop.” I threw enough Restoration magick into my leg to numb the pain, but not enough to heal it. I would need to take a better look at it later. The monk came over to me, helping me to my feet. His left arm went around my back, and I put my right arm over his shoulder. The Jarl was the first out of the chamber, with the brothers right on his heels. Svegard dashed further up the stairs. Thorlogh and I were the last from the chamber.

“Close the door!” Ulgar shouted as soon as our feet crossed. Half a heartbeat later, stone rose from the floor and slid down from the ceiling, blocking the chamber and barring the last of Yngvarr’s men within. We did not wait to see if the flames would spread further, leaving the old temple quickly.

* * *

 We walked until the magick in my leg wore off. I renewed it with a quick gesture and we continued. The monk had passed me off to Svegard, who was far stronger than he was. I knew better than to argue – walking on a broken femur was foolish, to say the least. Moving at all was foolish, but the men wished to return to Staalgarde before the sun set. I renewed the spell twice more afore we reached Staalgarde’s gates. The men of Amber Creek greeted us with cheers, whilst the remaining civilians from Staalgarde itself looked upon us with wary eyes. I could not blame them.  War had rained down upon their city – war which they had, thus far, been able to avoid. The guardsman from earlier – Olvir! – had taken command of the men remaining at the city. Agnar arranged rooms for us, and Ulgar helped his brother carry me up the stairs. One of the healers was sent up to tend to me, and the two of us were able to re-set my shattered femur. Once I had healed my leg and the woman left, I was walking up and down the room and performing stretches to ensure that the healing had gone correctly. One had to be careful, especially with such heinous injuries. I was in the middle of performing one such stretch when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in.” My left foot was on the floor and my right pressed into my buttocks, held there by my right hand. My left hand was pressed against my stomach. Brother Thorlogh came in to the room.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, closing the door behind him. I changed my stance, pressing my left foot into my rear.

“Much better than I did previously, thank you. And thank you again for your assistance earlier. I do not know if I would have been capable of leaving without your aid.”

“It wasn’t any problem.” He demurred, and I raised a brow. “Well, not really.” He conceded with a shrug of a shoulder.

“That cannot be the only reason you came to see me.” I postulated, and the monk nodded.

“No, it wasn’t. I was wondering how much longer you thought you’d be staying.”

“I do not think that I will return to Amber Creek. I will bear south as soon as the road allows it and make my way to the docks.”

“You’re going to miss one of the biggest parties Falskaar’s had in ages.” He pointed out.

“I have business that I must attend to in Skyrim. My Family needs me.” I stood up straight, both feet back on the ground. “I also have little desire for your honours and accolades.”

“It’s just a party to help everyone relax now that the danger’s past.” Thorlogh countered.

“I will leave you to it.” I informed him. “I heard a disquieting rumour on my first night in Amber Creek about necromancers. You may wish to deal with them, and quickly. They tend to be ill-content with hiding for long periods of time.”

“I don’t think that there are covens of necromancers on Falskaar.” He shook his head, and I shrugged.

“On your own head be it, then. I have done what I can.” I began to put my armour back on.

“You can’t plan on leaving _now_ , of all times.” The monk protested. “It’s pitch black out there.”

“The danger is past now, is it not?” I replied, shooting him a small grin. “If that is so, I will be safe.” He shook his head.

“It was good to meet you, Lycoris. May your gods watch over you.”

“And may your gods watch over you.” Thorlogh left, and I continued to buckle on my armour. When I was finished, I picked up my pack and slung it over my shoulders before heading down the stairs. My right leg was slightly stiff, but walking would aid its recovery. Agnar, Thorlogh, and the Hjorgunnar brothers awaited me near the main door to the keep. I narrowed my eyes at the monk, who remained unrepentant.

“Brother Thorlogh told us that you were leaving tonight, and we wanted to see you off.” Svegard informed me. 

“What else are friends for?” Ulgar grinned. I rose a brow, but I did not correct his assumption.

“I would like to thank you for everything you have done for the people of Falskaar.” Agnar took a step forward. “You put yourself in harm’s way for the greater good of Falskaar many times. That is not something that most women would have done.” Both my brows rose. Perhaps the Jarl noticed my affront, for he continued speaking quickly. “I hope that this may serve as a reward for your actions. What you did is not something that many people would have done, and we owe you.” He handed me a large coin purse. From its weight, there were over two thousand septims within. “I promise you that the scholars of Falskaar will remember you. Brother Thorlogh will make sure that your deeds are more than mere legend. Travel safely, and may your gods watch over you.” The brothers made similar statements, and I replied with the correct statements. Eventually, the four men headed back to their rooms and I was able to leave.

* * *

For the price of five hundred septims, Wulf agreed to take me on as a passenger to Skyrim. The journey took a day, and we landed in Dawnstar. It was far colder than Falskaar had been by far, but I was glad to have the island at my back. I walked down the frozen street, basking in the frigid air. I let a true smile stretch my lips as I watched the snow fall.

“This isn’t what your ancestors would have wanted, Silus!” I heard a woman say, and I turned my head to follow the sound to its source. A man and a woman argued at the base of a set of stairs leading to a house. The door was framed by a pair of banners that I thought I would never see again. Bright crimson trimmed with gold, framing a rising sun. The Mythic Dawn. A sigil that few had seen in two centuries, and here it was, displayed where any eye could look upon it. I carefully walked towards the pair, blatantly listening in to their conversation.

“The Mythic Dawn cult once held the fate of all Tamriel in their hands! I will not let them be forgotten! My museum remains open.” The man stated, walking away from the woman. I waited for the woman to pass out of sight before approaching the man. From his colouring, I thought him to be Imperial; his introduction proved it.

“Silus Vesuius, proprietor of the Museum of the Mythic Dawn. Have you come to take a look around?” He asked, a wide smile on his face. Y'ffre’s bones, the man even wore their robes.

“Some might call you a fool if they saw this.” I commented, gesturing at the banners. “Not many like to think on this part of Tamriel’s history.”

“Many people have been called fools throughout history. You don’t hear about the ones who didn’t prove that wrong, though.”

“There are many cautionary tales that have been handed down over the centuries. Have you never heard of _Chance’s Folly_?”

“Bah. Made-up stories to give people thrills or to teach them some kind of moral.” He waved a dismissive hand. “The Mythic Dawn were not a myth, not a legend, and not some kind of monster to scare children with.”

“I understand that statement far better than you will ever know.” I murmured, then walked away. I would wait for the sun to set, and then I would return. On my way to the inn, I passed a mine.

“Beitild, we can’t work any harder than we already are.” _That_ caught my attention. One of the three contracts I had been given was for a woman named Beitild, who ran a mine. Another task to complete after sundown. I grinned to myself as I walked towards the inn.

* * *

 It was child’s play to sneak into Beitild’s home in the black of night, and easier still to slay the woman in her sleep. I had expected to find wards or the like around the Mythic Dawn ‘museum’, and was surprised to find nothing of the sort. I knew of no magick that would destroy the remaining fragment of the Mysterium Xarxes, and so it went into my pack, along with the dossiers on the locations of the pieces of Mehrunes’ Dagger. I had heard of a Vigilants of Stendarr outpost in Skyrim, and hypothesized that they would be better equipped to deal with these things than I. I wanted nothing more to do with this particular Prince. I slit the self-styled proprietor’s throat and burned down the building. I slipped out of Dawnstar under an Invisibility spell while the guards were occupied. I passed a Khajiit caravan on the road, and they were able to mark the location of the Hall of the Vigilant on my map. Invisible once more, I placed my burden on their doorstep and washed my hands of the matter. I bore south on the road; Whiterun my destination. It was nearing noon when I arrived, and yet the guards refused me entry.

“The last time I was here, I was refused entry because it was too early in the morn. What excuse will you give me this time?” I demanded.

“There was a dragon seen at Helgen not too long ago…” The guard began, and I shook my head.

“Barred doors will not keep out a dragon. The beast was large as a house; it will simply fly o’er your walls and burn down your city while _you_ stand here at the gates and deny entry to travellers on the road.”

“You were at Helgen? You saw it?” The guard asked in turn.

“Yes, I saw the creature.” I confirmed.

“You should speak with the Jarl! He’ll want to know about this!”

“I have no wish to speak with your Jarl. I am simply passing through.” The guard did not seem to hear me, as he was busy opening the gates. He called out to another guard.

“This woman was at Helgen! Take her up to see the Jarl!” I growled low in the back of my throat. I was unimpressed with Jarls of late, and had no desire to speak to another. But it seemed as though I had little choice. The other guard led me through the city of Whiterun and up to Dragonsreach, where the Jarl and his family resided. I had only wanted to stop in the city for a few hours to sell the excess items I had collected in Falskaar. I had sold some in Dawnstar, but their blacksmith had not the coin to purchase all of it. The guard opened the doors to Dragonsreach and gestured for me to precede him. He followed in after me, and closed the door behind him.

“Don’t go anywhere.” He warned, a stern finger pointing at me. I folded my arms across my chest as he walked away. The guard walked across the room, where he spoke with a Dunmer woman. He gestured towards me, and I stared back at the woman. She broke her eyes away first, speaking to the guard once more. The woman made her way down the stairs and towards me.

“So. You were at Helgen, then?” The woman asked, folding her arms across her chest.

“I was. What of it?” I asked in turn.

“It was actually a dragon that destroyed it, then? Not bandits or something?”

“Yes, it was a dragon. Not Stormcloaks, not bandits. It was the largest creature I have seen in… a very long time.” The only thing I had seen that was comparable in size had been Martin, once he had dashed the Amulet of Kings upon the ground and become the Avatar of Auri-El.

“Come with me. The Jarl will want to hear about this.” She turned on her heel and walked back up the room. Once again, I had little choice but to do as I had been told. I followed her across the room, to where she was speaking with a blond man sitting in a throne-like chair.

“My Jarl, this woman claims to have been at Helgen. She says that a dragon destroyed the village.” She continued up the next set of stairs to stand on the Jarl’s left. On his right stood a man of Imperial descent, from the colour of his skin.

“What happened there? What were you doing in Helgen?” The Jarl demanded.

“I was apprehended by the Legion just after crossing the Jerall Mountains. I had used one of the less well-travelled passes, and they took issue with that. I was tossed into the back of a wagon with a horse-thief and a handful of Stormcloak soldiers, as well as Ulfric Stormcloak himself. We were all to be executed, but the dragon’s arrival changed our fortunes. I do not know how many Legionnaires or Thalmor survived the attack, but most of the Stormcloaks survived, in part because of my efforts.” The Jarl narrowed his eyes at me.

“I wouldn’t have guessed you were a Stormcloak supporter.” He commented.

“I was. I spent some time in Markarth recently, and have since changed my mind.”

“Who she supports in the civil war doesn’t matter much right now, Balgruuf.” The Dunmeri woman pointed out.

“I cannot blame him for asking. Nor can I blame him if he doubts my change of heart.” I informed her. “From what I understand, your Jarl has remained as neutral as he can during these times. He must consider his actions carefully.” Three sets of brows rose as I spoke.

“Can I ask why you changed your mind about supporting Ulfric’s cause?” The Jarl leaned forward in his chair.

“I have been to Windhelm since arriving in Skyrim. That was what first began to fracture my support. In Markarth, I spoke with some of the non-Nords within the city. Ulfric killed anyone he felt stood against him – men, women, and even children.” I shook my head. “I have seen battle on a grand scale, time and time again, but never have I slain children. Any man who would condone such is unfit to rule anything, much less a country.” The Jarl looked over at the Dunmeri woman once more. She studied me, looking me over.

“She’s old enough to have seen the Great War.” She said, and he nodded.

“Irileth’s right that your loyalties in the civil war don’t matter right now, but it’s nice to know them anyway.” The Jarl stated. “Irileth, send a detachment of men to Riverwood immediately. They’ll need all the help they can get if the dragon decides to pay them a visit.” The Dunmer woman nodded and walked down the hall. “There is something else that you could do for me, if you’d like to. My court wizard is looking into a matter related to dragons and rumours of dragons.”

“Very well. Where can I find him?” I knew better than to attempt to beg out of it. The Jarl rose from his seat and lead me into a room on the building’s eastern side.

“Farengar, I think I’ve found someone who can help you with your dragon project.” A man wearing purple robes had been bent over an Arcane Enchanter in the back of the room, but abandoned it at hearing the Jarl speak. “Go ahead and fill her in with all the details.” The Jarl nodded to me before leaving the room.

* * *

 The request that the Valerius siblings had made of me when I first arrived in Skyrim had slipped my mind entirely. Thankfully, this request that Farengar Secret-Fire had made of me lead me to the same place. Bleak Falls Barrow was filled with bandits and a handful of spiders, as well as the strange undead creatures I had first seen in Falskaar. As I made my way through the ruins, I recalled my conversation with the Stormcloak soldier on the way to Riverwood. These things, I concluded, must be the draugr he had spoken of. I had not seen the ones with the strange voice-magick in these ruins, and hoped that they might be exclusive to Falskaar. The golden claw that Lucan had asked me to collect was easy enough to find, retrieved from the slain Dunmer bandit’s body, but I had yet to see anything that might be the Dragonstone Farengar claimed was within the ruins, so I pressed on. The ruin was far larger than I had expected it to be, and had more draugr-guardians than I had anticipated. When I had been told of them, I had assumed that there would be a small number of them, not the legions that I encountered. Thankfully, there were a great many traps that helped to whittle them down. Many I was able to avoid myself, but the one with the swinging blades clipped my shoulder. It was not a deep wound, and was easily healed. I finally encountered a dead end, a room with carvings on the walls. I had never encountered such a wall, and it took me some time to discover that the solution to its puzzle was on the golden dragon claw’s palm. I put it back in my bag as the door lowered, grinding noisily. I drew my blade with one hand and readied a spell in the other. Something about the large cavern I had entered set me on edge. I walked slowly, looking around carefully. The room was well-lit, compared to the rest of the ruins, and appeared to be empty of draugr. A flock of bats flew past as I made my way further within. Stairs led a short way up before levelling out. An ancient sarcophagus lay on my left, but it was the wall on my right that drew my eyes. It was covered in odd script that I had never before seen, made up of lines and dots. As I drew closer, the script lit up in places.

_“Het nok faal vahlok; Deinmaar do dovahgolz; Ahrk aan FUS do unslaad; Rahgol ahrk vulom.”_

When the voice began to speak in my mind, I automatically ducked my head, expecting instructions from Mother. As it continued, I knew it could not be her. I did not understand what the voice was saying. I looked up at the wall once more and saw that only one word was still lit.

“Fus.” A loud crash from behind me, and I whirled about to face it. The sarcophagus had opened, and a draugr was climbing out of it. I shot a stream of lighting at it and it raised its blade.

 _“FUS RO DAH!”_ I was thrown off my feet and into the wall. I felt one of my ribs snap and quickly summoned my Familiar. The incorporeal wolf distracted the draugr as I pumped Restoration magick into my ribs. I threw two Thunderbolts at the draugr in quick succession before it charged at me. I ducked beneath its blade and kicked in in the stomach, pushing it back. I cast an Icy Spear through its chest, which only slowed it down. My Familiar tripped the draugr from behind, snapping at its heels, and I rushed forwards. Taking my blade in both hands I swung downwards, through the draugr’s neck. It twitched for a few moments, but it was dead. It seemed that draugr were similar to other magickal constructs in that one needed to remove their heads afore they ‘died’. I wiped off my blade and sheathed it, looking around again. The wall was silent and no longer alight, so I turned my attention to the sarcophagus. In the bottom laid a stone tablet. I pulled it out and examined it. It appeared to be a map of some manner. I did not recognize any of the markings upon it, but I had not been in Skyrim long. Perhaps another would recognize them. I searched the draugr’s body, but the map-tablet appeared to be the only thing worth taking from the room. I looked back at the wall once more before I left. Would the wall respond in that manner to any being, or was it just I? I shook my head and pushed those thoughts away. I could think on it later. I needed to find a way out of the ruins. Thankfully the ancient Nords built their tombs much like the Ayleids had their cities – with secret exits. I exited on the south side of Riverwood, on the west side of its river. It did not take me long to reach the small village and find the store.

“You’re back!” Camilla wrapped her arms around me. “It’s been so long, I thought you might have forgotten.”

“I will admit to being distracted, but I did not forget.” I told her with a small smile. I placed the golden claw on the counter. Behind it, her brother scowled at me.

“Thank you. I hope those thieves got what they deserved.” Lucan tossed a bag of coins at me. He continued to glare at me while his sister flirted. She pulled me out of the store and into the inn. Faendal and Sven also threw dirty looks my way, but I ignored them, as did Camilla.

“You do recall that this was just for pleasure, yes?” I asked Camilla as I twirled a strand of her hair around my finger. “I was not made for monogamy.”

“I do remember.” Camilla smiled. “It’s just nice to see you again.” Camilla ordered a meal, and I did the same, booking a room for the night as I did so.

“So.” I pushed the empty dishes away from me and turned to face Camilla. “Would you like to join me?” I nodded towards my rented room. Camilla leapt from her seat, grabbed my wrist and dragged me in. It was the most I had laughed in a very long time.

* * *

 “You see? The terminology is clearly First Era or even earlier. I’m convinced this is a copy of a much older text. Perhaps dating to just after the Dragon War. If so, I could use this to cross-reference the names with other, later texts.” I heard Farengar say. I had just entered Dragonsreach, and made my way to his chambers.

“Good. I’m glad you’re making progress. My employers are anxious to have some tangible answers.” A woman replied.

“Oh, have no fear. The Jarl himself has finally taken an interest, so I’m able to devote most of my time to this research.”

“Time is running, Farengar, don’t forget. This isn’t some theoretical question. Dragons have come back.” I stood in the doorway just outside the mage’s chambers. 

“Yes, yes.” Farengar waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry. Although the chance to see a living dragon up close would be tremendously valuable…” I interrupted by placing the map-tablet on the table.

“Ah! The Dragonstone of Bleak Falls Barrow! Seems you’re a cut above the usual brutes the Jarl sends my way. My associate here will be pleased. She discovered its location, by means she has so far declined to share with me.” He shot a frown over at the woman. “So your information was correct after all. And we have our friend here to thank for recovering it for us.”

“You went into Bleak Falls Barrow and got that? Nice work.” She nodded to me and stood upright, no longer leaning on the table. “Send me a copy once you’ve deciphered it.” She ducked out of the room just as Irileth approached.

“Farengar, come quickly. A dragon’s been spotted near the city.” Her eyes fell on me. “You should come too.” Before either of us could answer she was running off. Without looking at the court mage, I followed the Dunmeri woman up the stairs. The Jarl was speaking with a guard.

“What is it doing? Is it attacking the watchtower?”

“No, my Lord. It was just circling overhead when I left. I never ran so fast in my life. I thought it would come after me for sure.” The Jarl nodded and clapped the guard’s shoulder.

“Good work, son. We’ll take it from here. Head down to the barracks for some food and rest. You’ve earned it.” I leaned against the wall as Balgruuf handed out orders to Irileth. Once she was on her way, he looked over at me. “I’m sorry to ask so much of you. I want you to go with Irileth and help her fight this dragon. After surviving Helgen, you have more experience with dragons than anyone else here.”

“Very well.” I pushed myself off of the wall.

“But I haven’t forgotten the service you did for me in retrieving the Dragonstone for Farengar. As a token of my esteem, I’ve instructed Avenicci, my steward, that you are now permitted to purchase property in the city.” I nodded and made my way down the stairs, catching up with Irileth. I must have appeared calm, for no one said otherwise. Or the others were all just as nervous as I was. Irileth gave a short speech and we left the city. The scent of burning grass and flesh grew stronger as we drew closer. I readied spells in each hand and watched the skies. Irileth climbed what was left of the ramp on the outside of the building. I heard her speaking, so she must have found a survivor. I heard a cry on the wind and immediately recognized it.

“Irileth!” I called. “The dragon is coming back!” The dragon kept the watchtower between us as it approached, but it was not quiet. It swooped low and plucked one of the guards in its massive talons before flying away. It dropped the guard high in the air, and I shot a Thunderbolt at it, overpowering it by using both hands to charge the spell. The dragon let out a cry and flipped mid-air into a dive, blasting at us with fire. I quickly threw up a Greater Ward, hoping it would keep the flames at bay. I made it as large as I could and called to the guards to come closer. A few listened. More did not. Irileth had thrown up a Ward of her own, and was safe enough. I threw an overpowered Ice Spike at it, and the projectile pierced the dragon’s wing. I threw another, which landed close to the first. The ice did not last long, but it had done its job. A large, ragged hole now decorated the dragon’s left wing. I tossed one more Ice Spike, and the dragon fell into a dive. Instead of pulling up as it had the time before, it crashed into the ground. It turned its head on its long neck to look at me.

 _“Thuri du hin sille ko Sovngarde!”_ I did not know what it said, but tones transcend all languages. I threw a Thunderbolt down its throat, and it screamed. I clapped my hands over my ears, echoing it. Once the dragon finished screaming, I poured Restoration magick into my battered ears and the sounds of battle came back. I drew my blade and rushed towards the dragon. It swung its head low, and I reached up to grab on of its horns. It whipped its head up, likely trying to throw me off. I held tight, and when it lowered its head I used the momentum to swing myself atop it. I grasped my blade in both hands, blade pointing down, and drove it into the dragon’s skull with all my strength. I left my blade where it was and rolled off onto the ground. I climbed to my feet and gave it plenty of room to thrash as the dragon’s body realized that its brain was dead. The remaining guardsmen were celebrating, while Irileth and I watched the dragon’s corpse. Once it had stopped moving, I stepped forward to remove my blade. Before I had taken three steps, I could hear the corpse burning. I stopped, waiting to see what would happen. The dragon’s body lit up from within and its scales began to flake apart, blown away by the breeze. There was a sudden gust of air, strong enough to knock me back and push my hood down. It sounded like I stood in the center of a hurricane and as bright as looking into the sun… and then it was gone, and there were voices in my head again.

 _Dovahkiin? NO!_ I fell to my knees and pressed my hands against my skull.

 _Who are you? Where did you come from?_ I screamed in my mind. For a moment the voices stopped.

_ I am Mirmulnir. Allegiance-Strong-Hunt. You… are Dovahkiin.  _

_I don’t know what that is!_

_ Elven Dragon. You are the soul of a Dovah, trapped in this body. I will show you.  _

“ _FUS!”_ The word tore from my throat, seemingly of its own volition.

 _You see?_ The voice sounded smug.

 _You will not do that again!_ I snarled at it. _This is **my** mind and **my** body. _ The voice fell silent. I remained on my knees, breathing heavily. I needed to feed. I needed to get away from these guards and Irileth and find a bandit den and feed until I was unable to move. I rose to my feet and pushed past their whispers and stares. I was unsure of which direction I had set off in but cared little. I had just passed Whiterun’s walls when the very air shook.

_“DOVAHKIIN!”_

* * *

 I tore through half a dozen bandits before my thirst was sated. I leaned back in a chair in their camp and watched the stars.

_Mirmulnir. Are you still here?_

_Dovahkiin._ I sighed and tipped the chair onto its back legs.

_Will you always be here now, or will you eventually just… disappear?_

_I do not think that we should be able to converse. I have absorbed the souls of Dovah before, and they have immediately fallen silent. _ Well. That was unhelpful. _That is no fault of mine, little Dovah. _

_I was not speaking to you!_

_ I am in your head. Everything you think, see, or hear, I do as well.  _

_Does that work both ways? Am I able to reach into your mind and pluck out memories at will?_ Mirmulnir roared in my mind, startling me so much I fell out of the chair. _It was a thought, not a fucking suggestion!_ I imagined a cage within my mind, shoving the dragon inside it. The roar stopped instantly. I waited a minute and mentally prodded the cage. Mirmulnir was… no longer there. His essence remained, but I could no longer converse with him. I could look through the bars and see some parts of the dragon’s life, and had access to parts of his knowledge. I also no longer had a headache. I smiled and stood up. I reached into my bag and pulled out my map. I was some distance north of Whiterun, and close to where Camilla had said she thought Volunruud was. My smile broadened and I made my way north.

* * *

 I knew that the name was familiar, but I could not recall why until I saw Amaund Motierre. I had carried out a contract for one of his ancestors, Francois, in Cyrodiil. Amaund and his aide seemed surprised to see me, that the Sacrament had actually worked. I remained silent for the duration of our conversation. I blanched when Amaund informed me who the final target of this contract was going to be.

“It’s a shocking request, I know.” Amaund attempted to console me. But it is inside the purview of what you Dark Brotherhood types do. Isn’t it? If history is to be believed?”

“It was the Mythic Dawn who slew the last Dragonborn Emperor.” I informed him.

“The Dark Brotherhood murdered Pelagius I, Tiber Septim’s heir.” He countered.

“True enough, but that was almost six hundred years ago.” I pointed out.

“Precisely. No one will be expecting it.” He grinned. “Here. Rexus will give you two items for your… um… superior.” He clapped his hands, and the other man handed me a sealed letter and an amulet. “The letter explains everything that needs to be done, while the amulet is quite valuable. You can use it to pay for any and all expenses.” I took a closer look at the amulet.

“Your family has risen quite far since I spoke to them last.” I shook the amulet at him. “I have never before had business with a former client’s descendant.” Amaund stiffened, but said nothing. “I will ensure that these make it to those who can use them. Good day.” I bowed my head and left.

* * *

 I had not been in Falkreath long when I heard it.

 _“Listener! Come quickly!”_ I dropped my purchases and ran out of the door as fast as I could. I slapped my hand against the Black Door and flew down the stairs. The remains of the Dark Brotherhood stood in the main room of the Sanctuary, with the pool. I could smell blood.

“What is the meaning of this?” I demanded. Eight pairs of eyes turned to look at me. Cicero was bound, lying on the floor, and Veezara was leaned against the back wall, bleeding heavily from a stomach wound. I growled low in my throat and hurried towards the last Shadowscale.

“Stop her!” Astrid ordered. Arnbjorn, the only one with even the slightest chance of stopping me, stepped forward.

“I am trying to ensure that we all come out of this in one piece! 'Tis unlikely that any of you know healing spells.” I snapped, pushing the werewolf aside. “Now, someone tell me what happened.”

“Cicero was –” The Keeper began.

“Shut it!” Astrid snarled.

 _“Enough!”_ My voice shook the room, and silence was immediate. “Cicero, please continue.” I used my strongest healing spell on Veezara.

“Cicero was talking to Mother, like he always does. He opened Mother’s sarcophagus to find _that lizard_ inside it!” I leapt backwards, away from Veezara.

“What were you doing there?” I asked quietly.

“Orders.” He coughed. I must have only partially healed his wound, then.

“Astrid. What was Veezara doing in Mother’s sarcophagus?” I looked at the wall behind Veezara.

“What does it matter to you?” She scoffed. I turned around and threw the letter and amulet at her.

“Read that and ask me again. Oh, and you might want to send someone to Markarth soon, for Muiri.”

Astrid frowned at me before breaking the seal on the letter.

“Is this some kind of joke? Where in the Void did you just stumble across this?” She shook the letter at me.

“It was not an accident. You have been missing contracts for years.”

“We’ve been doing what we can!” Babette argued.

“I know that.” I soothed her. “But there is only so much one can do without a Listener.” Astrid started to laugh.

“You expect us to believe that?” She shook her head.

“I have been a part of the Dark Brotherhood for two hundred and seventeen years, and have been the Listener for two hundred of them. Ask me any questions you wish, and if I am able to, I will answer them.” The next forty-five minutes were spent doing precisely that. Most of them were along the lines of ‘where have you been’, and were easily answered. Questions about my very first Family, however, were a bit more difficult. When Veezara asked about Ocheeva and Teinaava tears trickled down my cheeks. Babette asked the million-septim question:

“Why are you crying?”

“Mathieu _fucking_ Bellamont.” I snarled. Not everyone in the room was familiar with the Dark Brotherhood’s history, and so I went into detail. It was the first I had spoken of it in two hundred years. Once I reached the end of my tale, there were no more questions. “So. Astrid. Where do we go from here?” I wiped the tears off my cheeks.

“A lot of that depends on you, and what you’re planning on trying to change here.” She was immediately on the defensive.

“As long as you obey the Tenets, I care for little else. I do not want the leadership. If we are able to expand, perhaps find or create a second Sanctuary, then I will leave and take the Night Mother with me. I will not exert my authority often. I am doing so now, however.” Astrid raised a brow. “I want nothing to do with this Emperor contract. Give it to the others. I have seen more than my share of dead Emperors in my time.”

“Well, if that’s truly all, then I don’t see why we won’t be able to make this work.” Astrid looked down at the letter, bouncing the amulet off the palm of her other hand.

“ _That_ is an Elder Council amulet.” I informed her, pointing at it. “I cannot tell you its value, but I remember what they look like.” I let out a breath and looked around the room. I had forgotten about Cicero, who was still bound. “I take it that you attacked Veezara after you found him?” Cicero nodded.

“Veezara came running out of there and Cicero wasn’t far behind him.” Astrid added. “We’d only just gotten him restrained when you came in.” I nodded and crouched beside Cicero.

“If I untie you, are you going to go after Veezara?” Cicero glared at the Argonian. “He did not understand that he was being disrespectful. But he knows better now, they all know better.”

“Cicero will leave them alone if they leave Mother alone.” He groused, pouting.

“And they will, Keeper.” I gave him a small smile and cut his bonds. “We are a small Family. The last thing we need is to fight amongst ourselves.” I helped Cicero to his feet. Astrid dismissed the others with a wave of her hand, and I sent Cicero off to see to Mother. Astrid led me to the entrance, where she and her husband had their bedroom.

“It’s the closest we’ll get to actual privacy inside the Sanctuary.” She explained, and I nodded my understanding. “So. You didn’t pick up the Aventus contract by accident.”

“Correct. Mother had told me about it, as well as one in Markarth that I took care of.” I sat down in a chair, and Astrid sat upon the bed.

“Not Muiri, then?”

“No. Madanach, King in Rags.” Astrid’s head snapped up. “I do not think that I should be sent to Markarth any time in the near future.”

“What happened?” Astrid leaned forward, elbows on her knees and fingers beneath her chin.

“The Silver-Bloods are no more, and their prison is empty.” Astrid was not satisfied with such a simple explanation, and so I told her the entire story. She laughed when I told her how I ended up in Cidhna Mine, but I could not blame her. “It was the fastest way.” I explained with a shrug. I told her little of what had happened after the infamous escape.

“You say you don’t want the leadership.” Astrid said, and I nodded. “Care to elaborate why?”

“As the Listener, I was the leader of the Dark Brotherhood until the Great War, when the Thalmor decimated our Sanctuaries. That was the better part of two centuries. As well, you are mortal. I am essentially immortal; seeing as the only way I will die is if I am slain. Once you pass it is likely that leadership will revert back to me. I have all the time in the world.” I leaned back in the chair. “Also, there are other things that I am involved with at this time, and it is unlikely that I will be here enough to fulfill my duties as the head of the Brotherhood.”

“Such as?”

“Rebellion, to begin with. I am the last remaining Blade, to my knowledge, and I fought against the Thalmor’s efforts in Hammerfell. As the only elf fighting against them, I was rather well-known. 'Tis unlikely that they have simply forgotten about that.”

“So you’re a Stormcloak?” She asked, raising her brows.

“No. That was my initial reason for coming to Skyrim, but after meeting the man and seeing what he does and what he stands for, I have since changed my mind. 'Tis far more likely that I will join forces with the Legion.”

“Is that why you don’t want anything to do with this contract?”

“You need not worry about me betraying you. But no, that is not why. I witnessed the deaths of the last two Dragonborn Emperors. Titus Mede may not be of the same blood, but I have no wish to see another Emperor die.” Astrid’s eyes widened.

“But… the Champion died…”

“With the assistance of Arquen, one of my Speakers, I was able to assure the public of my death. After all, it would not do to have me recognized. Even then, I had to wear a disguise for a number of years in certain parts of Cyrodiil.”

“Is that why you recognized the amulet?”

“Ocato foisted one upon me, yes. I think it was his intention that I join the Elder Council, but I refused the position. I still have the amulet in one of my homes in Cyrodiil.” Astrid nodded and looked back at the letter.

“Well, as long as you’re not posted in Solitude itself it doesn’t look like you’ll have anything to worry about from us. Have you looked at this yet?” She asked, holding it out to me. I took it from her hands and read it.

“I cannot fathom who these people he references may be, Astrid.” I shook my head. “Except, perhaps, for the chef.”

“Vittoria Vici is the bride, I think. She’s a cousin to the Emperor. I’m not certain who this military officer is, but if he’s in charge of the Emperor’s security, he’s Penitus Oculatus. It won’t be hard to get more information about them.” Astrid put the letter down on the table. “You’re sure you don’t want anything to do with the contract?”

“What were you thinking?”

“I need this amulet appraised. The Thieves’ Guild is in Riften, down in the Ratway. Nazir’s the closest I have to a second-in-command, and Gabriella always bitches when I send her down. Festus is probably getting too old for that kind of journey, and they wouldn’t take Babette seriously. My husband, as much as I love him, has had too many… disagreements with them in the past. Veezara’s injured, and he’s the one I usually send.”

“Very well.” I extended my hand to take the amulet back. Astrid grinned as she put it in my hand. “But this is as involved as I am getting, barring some manner of emergency.”

“Of course.” Astrid waved a hand. I rose from the chair and left the room. I turned in Narfi and Beitild’s contracts with Nazir, who looked at me oddly before paying me. I stopped in to see Cicero before I left.

“How are you, Cicero?” I asked. He was seated on the floor, staring up at Mother’s sarcophagus.

“All’s well that ends well, right?” He muttered, not looking at me. “Listener should have let Cicero kill them.”

“And then where would we be?” I asked, casting a Muffle spell on the room. “How would you and I go about completing the largest contract the Dark Brotherhood has seen in six hundred years? The letter the man gave me is incredibly vague, and I do not think that I would be able to do all the things that need to be done in time for this contract to come through.” He still refused to look at me. I growled and walked across the room. I knelt beside him and grabbed his arm, turning him around to face me. “They did not know any better. They were – still are, in some respects – little better than children. They cannot respect something if they think it is little more than a myth. Once this contract comes through, they will see. All of Tamriel will see that the Night Mother and her Children are alive and well. We will regain the respect we once had, and mothers will once more scare their children with tales of us. This I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? Told you we'd see the end of Falskaar.  
> Het nok faal vahlok; Deinmaar do dovahgolz; Ahrk aan FUS do unslaad; Rahgol ahrk vulom – Here lies the guardian; Keeper of dragonstone; And a force of unending; Rage and darkness  
> Thuri du hin sille ko Sovngarde – my lord will feast on your souls in Sovngarde


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance – I really don’t know a whole lot about horses or horse stuff or the terminology. Whenever I talk about horse stuff, I’m constantly referencing Google for diagrams and whatnot. Sorry!  
> Also: child death mention/dead child’s body later on. It's there for quite a while.  
> Thank you, The_Quickpeeps, for bugging me about updating. I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to do so.

I stopped at the village of Ivarstead on my way to Riften, listening for rumours. It had not escaped my notice that the village was at the base of a mountain, but I had not known what lay at the top of it.

“The Dragonborn was called by the Greybeards. Didn’t you hear it?” The innkeeper looked at me as if I was a fool. “It shook the air. I’m surprised it didn’t cause an avalanche, to be honest.”

“I have heard of the Dragonborn Emperors, but I do not think that is what you are speaking of.” I sipped at my drink, sitting at the bar.

“The Dragonborn can absorb power from dragons they kill, and can learn to Shout from them. I don’t mean regular shouting, anyone can do that, but some kind of magick thing they do with their voice.”

“And that is all that is known of the mysterious Dragonborn?” I raised a brow, and he shrugged.

“That’s what’s common knowledge. You could probably find more information in books somewhere.” The man was hailed by another customer, and I was left alone. I frowned into my ale. Was that what had happened with Mirmulnir? I had taken _something_ from the dragon, I did not doubt that. He had called me ‘Dovahkiin’, the same word the voices on the air had shouted. Was I the Dragonborn? I shook my head and rose to my feet, leaving a handful of septims on the counter. It did not matter if I was or not; I had a responsibility to my Family.

* * *

 The same dark-haired Nord in need of a bath stood near the main gates, just as he had the last time I had been in Riften. He narrowed his eyes at me as I walked past him. I inclined my head slightly, but said nothing. Astrid’s directions to the Ratway’s entrance had been clear, and I had no trouble finding it. There were a handful of layabouts within the tunnels, but they were little trouble. I could smell nothing aside from the stench of the sewers, but my ears led me to my destination. Barely a handful of people sat in the Ragged Flagon, as the old and worn sign declared its name to be. Obviously, this was only the face of the Thieves’ Guild. A marge man with a war hammer strapped to his back glared at me as I made my way to the bar. A blonde Nord woman scowled at me, while an older Breton man studied me. It was this man I approached.

“Delvin Mallory?” Silence fell over the room.

“Who wants ta know?” He asked, curling his lip at me.

“The Dark Brotherhood requires your services.”

“So you say. Anyone could walk through that door and make that claim.” He shook his head at me. “I ain’t a fool.”

“Astrid would have sent Veezara, but he was injured recently and was unable to make the trip himself.” I sat down in the chair across from his at the table. Mallory leaned back in his chair, and the others in the room relaxed.

“All right. What d’you got for me?” I tossed the amulet down on the table. The man’s eyes widened and he let out a low whistle as he examined the amulet.

“I don’t think I want to know where you got this.” He shook his head. “You know what this is?”

“'Tis an amulet of the Elder Council. I know that each of them is unique, and as such are valuable. What will you pay us for it?”

“You want me to buy it?” He grinned, and it widened when I nodded. “Just… give me a moment…” He gestured to the barman, who brought over a few pieces of parchment, ink, and a quill. Mallory nodded his thanks and began to write. “This… is a letter of credit… Astrid’s the only one who can use it. It’s good for any items or services I can provide, up to fifteen thousand septims.” He flash-dried the ink with a small blast of a fire spell before folding and sealing it with a glob of wax from a nearby candle, imprinting it with a ring he wore. I reached for the parchment, but he pulled it back slightly. “I don’t like doin’ business with people when I don’t even know their name.”

“Lycoris.” He nodded and handed me the parchment.

“Nice doin’ business with ya.”

* * *

 I did not know what sort of financial straits Astrid might be in, and so I made my way back to Falkreath immediately. She was very pleased with Mallory’s offer.

“Gabriella’s on her way to Solitude for Vici’s wedding.” She informed me. “She thought it would be a good idea to scout out the area a few days in advance.” I nodded my understanding and agreement with the Dunmer woman’s logic. “I’ve also learned the identity of the ‘high-ranking military officer’ that the letter mentions; one Oritius Maro.”

“That did not take long.” I commented.

“Enough money will make anyone talk.” She smiled. “Anyway, his son, Gaius, is his second in command, and will be checking the security of all the cities in Skyrim in preparation for the Emperor’s visit.”

“As I previously stated, I do not wish to be further involved with this contract.” I frowned, crossing my arms.

“I’m not getting your hands dirty, just trying to bounce ideas off of you. As you said, you’ve been doing this for a long time.”

“Very well, then. What did you want my opinion on?”

“The Penitus Oculatus base is in Dragon Bridge, a village in Haafingar hold. Near Solitude.” She added when I raised a brow. “Whoever I send to do this one will have to get Maro’s schedule and follow him. In a larger city, he’ll be discovered sooner.”

“You must have some plan in mind. Simply killing the son will do little.” I pointed out, and she nodded.

“I’m having a letter forged which will implicate him in a plot to assassinate the Emperor.”

“Soothe their fears on one hand – they will think that the danger has passed – and distract, at the very least, the father on the other.” I put the pieces together, and Astrid’s smile widened.

“Precisely.”

“I would recommend avoiding Solitude for this part of the contract. With Vici’s death, the guard presence in the city will be heightened. If I were the one assigned to this contract, I would avoid Legion-allied cities. A city such as Riften or Windhelm, for example, would take far less issue with an Imperial agent dying on their streets.”

“Both good points.” Astrid acknowledged. “Thank you.”

“How is Veezara?” I asked, changing the subject. “Are his injuries healing?”

“Your healing helped. Without it, I don’t know what might have happened.” She shook her head. “His internal injuries are almost all healed, it’s just the surface that needs more time.”

“That is good to hear. Do you think he would accept further healing?”

“You can ask.” Astrid shrugged a shoulder. “I hope he does. I’m going to need everyone before this contract is over, I think.”

“Then if there is nothing else…?” She waved a hand in dismissal, and I left her room. Veezara was sitting in his usual place in the main chamber, meditating.

“Greetings, Sister.” He opened his eyes as I drew close. “You and Arnbjorn are not the only ones with a good sense of smell.” His forked tongue slipped out from between his lips, as though in evidence.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, stepping closer.

“Well enough, I suppose.” He shrugged slightly. “Babette is the closest we’ve had to an actual healer for some time now.”

“Would you like further healing?” I brought the spell to hand, the golden light swirling about my fingertips.

“I would appreciate it. It’d be nice to get back to work.” I gave him a small smile and bathed him in magick. Its effects were immediate. Veezara sat more comfortably and his breaths deepened. I found no sign of infection in his blood, which gladdened me. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome. If you have any further issues, do not be afraid to seek me out. Or, if you wish, I could teach you a basic healing spell.”

“I don’t want to be any trouble.” He demurred, and I shook my head.

“It is no trouble to ensure that my Family lives on.” I sat with him and taught him a few Restoration spells, which he took to quickly, much to his surprise. Once I felt he had learned enough for the time being, I sought out Cicero. However, he had barricaded the door to Mother’s shrine in the Sanctuary, from which I gathered that he must be taking care of Mother. Arnbjorn was in Markarth, getting contract information from Muiri, and Festus was working on the Emperor contract. From what I understood, he was attempting to suss out the Gourmet’s identity, or someone who knew the chef’s identity. Babette was out feeding, and so there was little for me to do within the Sanctuary. I left a note for the Keeper and informed Astrid that I was leaving.

“Where are you headed next?” She asked, and I shrugged.

“I know that I will not be heading to Solitude. I feel t’would be dishonest of me to join the Legion while involved in a plot to assassinate the Emperor. Perhaps Winterhold? That is where your Mage’s College is, correct?”

“Yes, that’s true.” She nodded. “When you go outside, stop at the waterside. Someone will meet you there shortly. Don’t worry, it’s nothing to do with the contract. Just something I thought you might need, what with running all over the damn province.”

“If I wished to have a horse, I would have acquired one.” I frowned over at her.

“Just… take a look at this one. If you don’t want it, don’t take it.”

“As you like.” I shook my head and exited the Sanctuary. The water was not hard to find, only a few paces away from the Black Door itself. I listened for an approaching rider from the road, but I heard nothing. The water at my feet began to bubble, drawing my attention. I took a step back from the water as the bubbles began to froth and form small waves. The water gushed skyward, like a geyser, and when it settled a night-black horse with glowing red eyes stood in the water. “Shadowmere!” She whinnied in greeting as I stepped into the water. It came halfway to my knees, but I did not care. “I had thought you might have been slain.” I murmured, running my hand down the bridge of her nose. I leaned my forehead against her neck and breathed in her scent. “I missed you, my girl.” I climbed onto her bare back and guided her with light touches of my knees in Falkreath’s direction. With a nudge of my heels, she moved from a walk to a trot, then into a canter, and finally into a gallop. I laughed aloud and threw back my hood, letting the wind fly through my hair. I trusted Shadowmere as I had no other steed, and she had always proved worthy of it. I guided her into the village, where I learned that Falkreath’s blacksmith had a few ready-made saddles and bridles, as well as the pieces necessary to have them crafted. I bought a ready-made saddle and bit-less bridle as well as a saddle blanket, but left very detailed instructions on the design of the new saddle and bit-less bridle that I wanted him to craft.

“It’s not going to be cheap.” He warned.

“Which means that this project is going to require your utmost care and attention.” I countered. “I cannot give a specific time frame for my return, for which I apologize. I do not expect to be able to return until well after they have been completed, however. I will pay you handsomely upon my return should they meet my standards.”

“Of course, ma’am.” He bowed his head. I whistled for Shadowmere and she came running. I ran out to meet her and reached upwards for the saddle horn, swinging myself into the saddle. The ends of the reins were still wrapped loosely around the horn where I had left them, so she would not have to worry about stepping on them when I let her roam. Guiding Shadowmere had never required constant use of the reins, unlike other horses. Outside of emergencies, I allowed her to have her head. Thirty years had passed since I had last laid my eyes on her, and yet it was as though we had never parted. The smile on my lips did not leave until I came within sight of Whiterun. Irileth would have told the Jarl what had happened as soon as she had returned. Balgruuf had not asked me to return, but the man would likely argue that I had simply been expected to return. I slowed Shadowmere down to a canter and pulled my hood back up. We were going to draw attention regardless of what I did, but I could act as though I did not see the guards’ attempts to flag me down. At the first cry of ‘Dragonborn’, however, I dug my heels into Shadowmere’s ribs and laid near flat on her back. One of the guardsmen must have recognized my armour. I had not given my name to any living within the city, but all it would take was a messenger to Riverwood and a detailed description. Between Sven and Faendal, Balgruuf would have my name if he wished to. I wanted nothing more to do with dragons, not if I could help it.

* * *

 Shadowmere kept her pace well into the night; not slowing 'til we had come 'round Lake Yorgrim’s northern edge and passed into Winterhold Hold. The Hold lived up to its name well enough. Even using my vampiric Night Eye ability I could scarcely see the road before us.

“Stay on the road, darling.” I murmured, running my fingers through her mane. “Follow the road, and you will have a warm place to sleep the day away.” I cast a Fire Cloak spell to surround Shadowmere and myself to keep us warm and to hopefully ward off any aggressive wildlife in the area. I did not think that many bandits would ply their trade so far north, and I seemed to be correct. Upon arrival in what was left of the city, I could see that there were no true stables for Shadowmere. Instead, I led her to an old abandoned house. I patched up the holes in the roof and the walls with magick as best I could. The barriers would remain for twelve hours before fading. I removed Shadowmere’s tack and brushed her down. “It is not as warm as I promised. I apologize.” I murmured to her as I ran my fingers through her mane. “I will visit you in the morning afore I head up to the College. I do not expect us to stay long.” Shadowmere exhaled through her nose, catching the side of my face. I smiled and patted her once more before heading to the inn.

* * *

 It was too late when I arrived to make my way up to the College, and so I rented a room and waited for the morning. As I had promised her, I checked on Shadowmere and renewed the barriers. My task complete, I walked up the ramp leading to the College. An Altmer woman stopped me and would not allow me to pass until I had proved my capability as a mage. I summoned and dispelled a Fire Atronach as she requested.

“Once you’re inside, speak to Mirabelle Ervine. She’s in charge of organizing classes.” The woman told me, leading me up the ramp. There were some places where we could not walk beside one another, as the ramp had disintegrated.

“I came here to make use of your library, not to become a student.” I informed her.

“In that case, head inside through the main doors. Once you’re in the entryway, either doorway will take you up to the second floor. Urag gro-Shub is in charge of the Arcaneum. Don’t damage the books or try to leave with them, and you should be fine.”

“Thank you for your help.” I nodded to her and made my way up to the courtyard. As I entered, I saw a woman in mage’s robes arguing with an Altmer in Thalmor robes. I pulled my hood further down my face before making my way towards the College itself. Upon entering the building I lowered my hood entirely. Leaving it up would have drawn more attention, after all. There were doors on my right and my left, as the woman on the bridge had informed me there would be. I chose to use the door on my left. Climbing up the stairs brought me to a large, open library, within which were a handful of people. A small smile graced my lips as I looked around.

“You are now in the Arcaneum, of which I am in charge.” A bearded Orsimer stood close by, and it was he who had spoken. “It might as well by my own plane of Oblivion. Disrupt my Arcaneum, and I will have you torn apart by angry Atronachs. Now, do you require assistance?”

“What books do you have about dragons?” I asked.

“Most of the books we have are fiction. There are three books that are based more on facts. You’re looking for _The Dragon War_ , _There Be Dragons_ , and _The Book of the Dragonborn_.” The Orsimer explained. “Just wait a moment, and I’ll get them for you.” He went off in search of the books, and I looked around the library. It had been many years since I had set foot in one. A young Dunmer woman glanced up from her book at me, and I pretended not to notice. “Here you are.” The Orsimer placed the three books on his desk. “Now. No eating or drinking while reading. No casting spells while reading. And these books don’t leave the Arcaneum. Is that clear?”

“I understand.” He grunted and walked away, leaving the books on the desk. I took the three and found myself a seat and sat down to read. The first two books, while interesting, did not tell me much. _The Book of the Dragonborn_ was much more informative. When I reached the end of the book and its prophecy, I frowned and re-read it. Twice. I fished through my pack and found my notebook, but my quill was snapped. I looked up and saw the Dunmer girl was still in the library. “Do you have a quill I can borrow?” I asked her. She looked up from her book and blinked.

“Yes, I do.” She closed her book and handed me a quill. “I haven’t seen you around here before. Are you a new student?” I chuckled.

“No. I am only here to make use of the library.” I wrote down the prophecy carefully, making sure it was word for word, then began to write my theories.

 

_Misrule takes its place/eight corners – Jagar Tharn?_

_Brass tower –??_

_Time is reshaped – the Dragon Break_

_Thrice-blessed –??_

_Red Tower trembles – the Red Year?_

_The Dragonborn ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls – the Oblivion Crisis_

_When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding – Ulfric killed the king_

_The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the last Dragonborn._

 

I put the quill down and stared at the notebook. I closed the other books and took them back to the Orsimer.

“Does the term ‘World-Eater’ mean anything to you?” The man sighed.

“I’ll get you the books.” He returned carrying two books; _The Alduin/Akatosh Dichotomy_ and _Varieties of Faith in the Empire_. Both books assumed that this ‘World-Eater’ – this Alduin – was nothing more than a shadowed face of Akatosh. My instincts told me that such a simple thing was not the answer, _could not_ be the answer. Not with a prophecy, written in a book nigh on three centuries old. I returned the five books to the Orsimer and went to collect my notebook. When I picked it up, I saw another’s writing beside my own.

 

 

_Misrule takes its place/eight corners – Jagar Tharn?_

_Brass tower –?? **Numidium, probably.**_

_Time is reshaped – the Dragon Break_

_Thrice-blessed –?? **The Tribunal of Morrowind – Almalexia, Sotha Sil, and Vivec.**_

_Red Tower trembles – the Red Year?_

_The Dragonborn ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls – the Oblivion Crisis_

_When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding – Ulfric killed the king_

_The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the last Dragonborn._

**_If you want more information on Numidium, ask Urag for_ The Arcturian Heresy _. It’s the only book I’ve found in Skyrim that has good information on it._**

****

I looked around, only to find the Dunmer girl gone.

* * *

 Shadowmere seemed happy to see me once I was finished at the College. I dispelled the barriers and we made our way to Windhelm. I had modified the Forsworn armor when I had stopped at the Sanctuary, and planned to wear it when I confronted Ulfric. I slew Ennodius Papius and changed into the Forsworn gear at his camp. . The armour itself was little more than a breast cloth and a pair of smalls, while its headpiece was intricate and necessitated putting my hair into a bun. The gloves came to just past my elbows and the boots covered my feet and rose to my knees. With a mild Flame Cloak, I did not need to concern myself with the chill. I drew the cloak that Sadri had given me over it as well. The point of wearing the armor was to surprise Ulfric, after all. If I were to enter the town wearing only the armor, my surprise would be ruined. I stabled Shadowmere and entered Windhelm. I had just passed Candlehearth Hall when I heard a scream. I followed the sound to the city’s graveyard, where a woman’s body was laid out on a gravestone. Her body was cut open, and on quick inspection I could tell that the cuts were almost surgical in nature; a manner that one would normally expect from a mortician or priest. A woman in rags appeared to have been the screamer. She stood close by, almost hysterical. I attempted to calm her as two other approached. An older Nord woman wearing Arkay’s robes came out of a building not too far away and an older Imperial man came from the western end of the graveyard. It was he who fetched the guards. The analytical part of my mind filed this information away for future contracts. The Imperial man brought a single guardsman back with him, who collected statements from the four of us. The guard seemed disinterested in the woman’s murder, and did not deny it when I questioned him.

“This isn’t the first one. Susanna here makes the third in the last few months.”

“Do the women have anything in common?”

“Young, pretty. That’s about it.” He took a closer look at the corpse. “This one looks like it might be a little less cut up then the others were, though.”

“Do you remember nothing else?” I asked, holding my temper tightly. The man had a serial killer on the loose, and he did not care. He turned to face me.

“If you think you can do a better job, go talk to Jorleif before doing anything else.”

“I certainly cannot do a worse job.” I sneered. The name was familiar, but it was a few moments before I placed it. Jorleif was the Jarl’s steward, according to the letter I had found in Aventus’ house. That meant the man would be found in the Palace of the Kings. I did not want to be recognized by Ulfric before I was ready to speak with him, so I cast a mild Illusion on myself. It would make me less noticeable unless I drew attention to myself. I kept my head down as I walked through the main hall, stopping only to ask a guard where I might find the steward. He directed me to a man standing near the throne. “Steward Jorleif?”

“Just Jorleif is fine. How can I help you?” The man was tall, like most Nords, and had a large moustache trailing down both sides of his mouth.

“One of the guardsmen sent me to speak with you concerning the recent string of murders.”

“Talos preserve us, there was another one?” He rubbed his face with his palm. “We’ve had to reduce the guard presence here in the city what with the war, and the ones we have here are apparently next to useless.”

“I would be willing to lend assistance, if you would allow it.” I offered. Yet another item to casually throw in Ulfric’s face.

“Anything you could do would be appreciated. I’ll make sure that the guards know that you’re working with my authority.”

“I will get to work, then.” I turned on my heel and left. I returned to where Susanna’s body had been discovered, where the guard told me that the Priestess of Arkay, Helgird, had taken it to the Hall of the Dead. I entered through the door I had seen her exit through earlier, and with the assistance of a Detect Life spell, found her easily enough. She had not had much time yet to examine the body, and so I waited for her to finish.

“Much like the other girls, organs, sinew, and tendons were harvested. The killer tried to disguise their removal by destroying and moving around other organs, but it’s hard to hide it from someone with an experienced eye.” She explained. “The cuts were made with old embalming tools, much like my own, judging by the length, width, depth and angle of the cuts. And before you ask, no, I’m not the killer. I wouldn’t be telling you all this if I was the one responsible.”

“I was not going to accuse you.” I informed her. “Do you know of any mages within the city?”

“Only one I can think of is Wuunferth, the court mage. I’ve never seen the man leave the Palace of the Kings, though.”

“I have no more questions for you. Thank you for your time, Priestess.”

“I noticed something earlier that you might be interested in. Leading west past the graveyard is a blood trail. It might be worth checking out.”

“I had not noticed that. Again, thank you.” I gave her a small smile and she turned to her work. I left the Hall of the Dead and quickly found the trail that she had spoken of. The trail had been disturbed, but whether it had been intentional or not I could not tell. I followed the scent of blood, which no amount of disturbance could erase, which led me to a house north-west of the graveyard. Upon inspection, I saw that the lock was a recent addition to the house. I broke a half-dozen lockpicks in my attempts to open the door, but was eventually successful. The dust in the air made me sneeze upon entry until I halted my breathing. I made my way through the house, inspecting all that I came across. It seemed an ordinary abandoned house at a glance. I scented blood on the air, however, and knew otherwise. A small end table in a back room had a stack of warning posters penned by a Viola Giordano – the woman whose ring I had returned for Sadri, my first time in the city. Buried beneath them was an amulet, one I had hoped to never lay eyes on again. The last time I had seen it, I had given it to my predecessor at the Cyrodiilic Mage’s Guild, Archmage Hannibal Traven. The Necromancer’s Amulet. I did not even wish to touch the thing, but I could not leave it where it lay. I picked it up and dropped it into a leather pouch at my hip. Now this was far more than just another issue to throw in Ulfric’s face. I shuddered and moved on to the next room. The smell of blood was far stronger in this last room, but nothing stood out to me. I tapped on the walls, looking for the hidden room that must be there. The room was far easier to find than its door, which was hidden in the back of a wardrobe. A female skeleton lay on an altar of sorts in the back of the hidden room. I threw a bone across the room with a blast of Telekinesis, and when no traps went off, I entered it. I retrieved a journal from the altar and took a quick look through it. It detailed a recipe and ancient instructions. From that I gathered that the killer was attempting a resurrection. I tucked the journal away and piled everything else within the room on the altar using Telekinesis spells. Once the floor was bare, I used my most powerful fire spell to burn it all away. Once the killer’s handiwork was ashes on the floor I extinguished the flames and left the house. I made my way back to the Palace of the Kings and asked after the court mage’s quarters. One of the guards actually took me to the mage’s chambers, which I had not expected.

“Not many people seek out Wuunferth ‘the Unliving’ these days.” The mage grunted. He sat in a chair against the wall.

“How does one acquire that appellation?” I queried, closing the door.

“Apparently, one doesn’t live as long as I have without ‘cheating’.” He chuckled dryly. “What do you want, girl?”

“You have heard of the murders recently, have you not?” I asked, and he nodded. “Have you noticed any pattern to them?”

“I have, in fact. I haven’t got any proof, but I suspect that necromancy is at work here.”

“I have found your proof.” I tossed him the leather pouch containing the Amulet, as well as the journal. “I found these in an abandoned house north-west of the graveyard and destroyed the remains that I found within.” He blanched upon opening the pouch and seeing its contents, and did not bother looking at the journal. “I do not think that this will stop the killer, however.”

“It’ll definitely slow them down, though.” He tied the pouch up tightly and put it on the table. “How did you recognize the Amulet?”

“It is well-described in many texts.” I answered, which was not a lie. The mage grunted, but left it at that.

“If you hadn’t destroyed the remains, I would have said there wouldn’t be an attack for another fortnight, at least. But now… I can’t say.” He gave me the amulet, but kept the journal. “I don’t want anything to do with that. You said you found them in the abandoned house?”

“Yes. The killer did not hide their trail very well.”

“Let’s go talk to the Steward, then.” We made our way back into the main hall. I was glad to see that Ulfric was not present at the moment. Wuunferth told Jorleif what he and I suspected, and recommended that there be guards at the house. “But they can’t be out in plain sight, where anyone can see them. You want to ambush the killer, not scare them away.”

“I’ll get some men put on that.” Jorleif promised. Wuunferth and I walked back across the room, and stopped at the door leading back to his quarters.

“Now that we’ve at least told them, they can’t say we didn’t try.”

“I am going to watch the house as well.” I informed the mage.

“I thought you might. Stay safe, now.” He clapped my shoulder and went up the stairs. I made my way back to the killer’s lair and climbed the neighbouring house to sit on the roof, putting my Invisibility spell to use. Two guards arrived a few hours later and hid themselves near the house. Four hours after that, the pair were relieved by another pair of guards. Another four hours, another pair of guards. After I had been sitting on the roof for almost fourteen hours, someone who was not a guard walked past the house I was perched upon. The owners of the other houses in the area had long since gone home, which meant that this man was the killer. I drew my bow and nocked an arrow, following his movements. The man waved a hand, and I saw the glint of magenta in his eyes that told me he had cast a Life Detect spell. Thankfully, I would not appear to someone using that spell. However, I knew that the guards would. The man snarled and raised his hands to cast another spell, and I loosed my arrow, which caught him in the throat. I heard one of the guards curse as the man fell to the ground. I climbed down the building that had served as my perch, only to be confronted by the pair of guards.

“Was that you who shot Callixto?” The man asked, gesturing towards the body. “We could have handled it.”

“He had cast a Detect Life spell and was about to kill you.” I answered flatly. “Did you not see his eyes?”

“I saw something.” The woman offered. “I didn’t know what it was, though.”

“What you should do know is search him. Find the key to his home and search it, as well. I did not see all of the things he would have required for his necromancy here. The rest is probably at his home.”

“Then you’re coming with us.” The man stated. “It’s not like either of us know what we’re looking for.”

“Very well.” I found the key, and the guards led the way to the man’s house. At first, we did not find much. Then I found a fall-down ladder that led upwards, and climbed it. A locked chest was above, and it would only open with one of Callixto’s keys. “I found what we are looking for.” I called down. I used Telekinesis to get the chest down to the main floor of the house. “The journal within is a match to the one I gave to Wuunferth earlier, and I do not doubt that the writing will also match. Wuunferth should come and look through these things later. Some items used in necromancy are dangerous, and cannot just be burned to dispose of them.” The guards nodded, and we left the house. The male guard went back to his rounds, and he woman elected to escort me to the Palace of the Kings. We went down a street that I was unfamiliar with. I saw a small girl huddled up in a corner and frowned. “Hold a moment.” I spoke to the guard, who nodded. With a flick of a finger, I cast Detect Life. The girl’s body did not shimmer with light. I sighed heavily. “Do you know what her name was?” The guard let out a sigh before she answered.

“Her name was Sofie. She sold flowers, trying to eat. She didn’t remember her mother very well, but her father was a Stormcloak who died in battle.”

“Her father was one of Ulfric’s soldiers, and your Jarl could not find a place for her to sleep in that ‘palace’ of his?” I sneered.

“I… I don’t know exactly. I just know what she told people.” I knelt beside the girl and brushed her hair out of her face.

“I am returning to the Palace of the Kings. I would recommend that you not come with me. I am going to have _words_ with Ulfric.” The woman nodded and left. I picked up the girl – _Sofie_ , her name was Sofie – and made my way up to see the would-be king of Skyrim. I used a touch of Alteration magick to hold the blankets close around Sofie, so that she would not be seen. Another string of Alteration, and the doors to the Palace of the Kings opened before me. Ulfric was seated on his throne, speaking with an older man wearing heavy armor with large pauldrons, and a blue tabard draped beneath them across his chest. One last tug of magick, and the door banged shut behind me. The noise drew every eye in the room. I recognized Jorleif and Wuunferth, but no others.

“Lycoris!” Ulfric greeted, smiling at me. “I had wondered when you were going to return.” I walked up the hall, stopping just before his throne.

“My Lord Ulfric Stormcloak.” I smiled sweetly. “I come bearing important news.” He nodded for me to continue. “While your men were out playing war, women in your city were being murdered. Tonight, however, I put an end to that. The Butcher of Windhelm is dead.”

“That’s –” The older man began to speak.

“I am not yet finished.” I glared over at him. “I also come with proof of something else.”

“Proof of what?” The Jarl drawled. I dispelled the magick keeping Sofie covered.

“This little girl froze to death on _your_ streets. Her father was one of _your_ soldiers.” I could hear some of the guards murmuring behind me. “What can the rest of your soldiers expect from you?”

“This is not the place to discuss things like this.” Ulfric said quietly.

“What better place than this?” I laid Sofie down gently beside Ulfric’s throne.

“There are much better places than this.” Ulfric hissed, rising to his feet.

“This is not the first time you have killed a child, 'tis only the first time you might have to face the consequences.” While Ulfric had lowered his voice, mine had only gotten louder.

“What are you talking about?”

“I have been to Markarth. I broke bread with Madanach, the King in Rags. Does the name Aethra mean anything to you? She was the child who begged you not to kill her father, and so you took her head in his stead. What of Euclid? You killed his beloved older brother, and he picked up a weapon in his rage. You killed him. What of Metea? Biton? Calais? Elpida? Gethsemane? I have many names to list, Ulfric. Do you recall any of them?”

“Why does it matter?” Ulfric snapped. “They were nothing but barbarians anyway.”

“I did not think to hear Thalmor rhetoric in Windhelm.” I raised my brows.

 _“FUS RO DAH!”_ As soon as I heard the first syllable, I raised a Ward. Large enough to be useful, but too small to be seen. Ulfric’s Shout threw my cloak back, baring my Forsworn armor for all to see, but otherwise did not affect me. 

“Now that I know you are an incompetent leader as well as a child-killer, I would like to withdraw my application from the Stormcloaks.” I bowed slightly. “I thank you for your time.”

“We’re not finished here.” Ulfric growled, stepping towards me.

“Yes, we are.” I cast Invisibility and crouched. I gathered up my cloak and made my way over to Sofie. While Ulfric and his men looked for me, I stretched the threads of Illusion to cover her and picked her up. I looked over at Wuunferth and saw a gleam of violet in his eyes. He could see me, and likely suspected that I was a vampire, if not something worse. I waited, but he did not tell Ulfric where I was.

“I’m going to get something warm from the kitchens.” Wuunferth announced, rising to his feet. No one answered him. As the mage passed where I was hiding, he spoke again. “Come with me, girl. Quick and quiet.” I hesitated for a moment before following him. When we arrived in the kitchens, no one was there.

“Why are you helping me? Why did you not tell Ulfric where I was?” I demanded, dropping the Invisibility.

“Because I happen to agree with what you told him.” Wuunferth replied. “I don’t care who or what you are, but thank you.”

“But you do know what I am, then.” Wuunferth did not answer. “I apologize.” I set Sofie down and rose to my feet. “I hoped I would not have to do this.”

“Do what?” Wuunferth frowned. I walked towards him, opening my eyes wide and pushing _out_ with my vampiric abilities. Wuunferth relaxed, all tension leaving his body.

“Lean towards me.” I commanded, and he did. I pushed his hood back, baring his throat. My vampiric teeth descended and I bit his throat. I did not drink much before I stepped away.

“Mistress.” Wuunferth’s eyes were unfocused as I healed the mark upon his throat.

“Are there any hidden passages out of here?”

“Yes. The servant’s entrance is nearby. Do you have any orders for me?”

“I do. You will remain here, and tell no one what you know of me. You will obey Ulfric as you normally do.” I paused, thinking. “Should you hear anything involving war plans, or if Ulfric plans to move against me, send a courier to Dead Man’s Drink in Falkreath for Lycoris. If Ulfric or another disparages me in your presence, hold your tongue. I need you to remain here, in good standing.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Do not call me that where others might hear you. If anyone asks of me, tell them we worked to discover the identity of the Butcher, nothing more. I did not even tell you my name.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

“Show me the servant’s entrance, then get your ‘something warm’ before you leave.”

* * *

 I carried Sofie before me on Shadowmere as we rode to Falkreath. I had her smothered in Alteration and Restoration magick to keep her from decaying. I guided Shadowmere to the graveyard, where the priest of Arkay did his work. There were three people in the graveyard when I arrived; two Redguards, a man and a woman, and an Altmer in robes. When he was finished with the pair of Redguards the Altmer made his way over to me.

“I am Runil, Falkreath’s priest of Arkay. Can I help you?”

“I have brought a body to bury.” I informed him. “Shadow-love, lower your head.” I patted Shadowmere’s neck with my free hand, and she lowered her head. I swung my right leg over her head and took my left foot out of the stirrup so I could slide down her side.

“Another little girl. But this one looks like she died peacefully, at least.” Runil commented.

“She froze to death in the streets of Windhelm.”

“You brought her all the way here from Windhelm?” Runil asked, his eyes wide.

“I thought that a girl who had seen naught but snow and ice might like to be buried surrounded by grass and trees.”

“How did you know her?”

“I did not know her at all. The first time I saw her, she was dead.”

“Ah. No family at all, then?”

"None that I am aware of."

 “Very well. Can I ask you to dispel your magick? I’ll take over as soon as you have.” Runil promised as I handed Sofie to him. I nodded, pulling my magick back. I felt Runil’s magick wrap around Sofie as soon as mine let go of her. “I’ll see she has a good resting place. You have my word.”

“Thank you.” Shadowmere came up on my right side, putting her head over my shoulder. I smiled up at the horse and rubbed her neck. “Here.” I reached into a pouch on Shadowmere’s saddle and took out my emergency funds. “There are five hundred septims here. I think you might need them more than I.” I walked towards the building beside the graveyard and put the pouch on the small table beside the door.

“Arkay bless you, child.” Runil gave me a half-bow.

“And you as well.”

* * *

 The blacksmith was not yet done with Shadowmere’s equipment, so I made my way back to the Sanctuary from there. I needed to tell Nazir that I had completed the contracts he had given me, and pass along the handful of contracts that Mother had told me about. Nazir paid me well for the three contracts, and gave me a pair more.

“Lurbuk is, by common consensus, the _worst_ bard in Skyrim. And that’s saying a lot. He’s in Morthal. Hern is a vampire, and a little closer to home. He and his… wife? Mate? Whatever. They live at Half-Moon Mill, just a ways north of here.”

“Thank you. Is Astrid in?” I asked, and Nazir shrugged a shoulder.

“She should be around here somewhere. She might have been talking to Babette when you came in. She’s taking care of the next part of the Emperor contract.”

“Babette is?” I raised my brows. “Is this the slaying of Gaius Maro?”

“It is indeed. Festus thinks he’s got a good lead on the Gourmet front, too. Once he’s figured that out, I’ll be sent on that one. Then Veezara will be on his way to Solitude as the Gourmet.”

“And we will once again be the most feared organization in Tamriel.” I smiled at Nazir, who grinned back.

“I can’t wait.” I left Nazir in the kitchen and sought out Astrid. She was speaking with Babette, as Nazir had thought.

“A little bird told me that you are heading out on a contract soon.” I smiled at Babette. She let out a sigh and rolled her eyes.

“Nazir. Of course.”

“While I have you, Astrid, I have a few more contracts for you.” I handed Astrid a parchment detailing the names and locations of those who had performed the Black Sacrament.

“Only one part of the contract completed, and we already have more business than we normally do.” Astrid smiled, taking the parchment. “Thank you.”

“You are more than welcome. I wish to see our Family restored to the glory we once had, and this is how we do it.”

“Absolutely it is.” Babette agreed, nodding her head. “Now, if you ladies will excuse me, it’s a long trip to Dragon Bridge.”

“Hold a moment.” I put a hand on her shoulder. “Dragon Bridge is close to Morthal, is it not?”

“Yes, it is. If you cut through the moor, they’re even closer. Most people don’t though, because there’s chaurus in there.”

“I have no idea what you are speaking of. But I just received a pair of contracts from Nazir, and one of them is in Morthal. Would you like to accompany me?” Babette smiled from ear to ear.

“Yes! I would love to! It’s been a long time since I travelled with another vampire.”

“Before you leave, you should at least check in on Cicero.” Astrid pointed out. “He was very displeased that he missed you the last time you were here.”

“I will make sure I do so.” I promised, and looked back at Babette. “Do you have all of the things that you need?”

“I do. I’ll wait for you near the entrance.” Babette walked away, still smiling. I nodded to Astrid, who returned the gesture, then went to find the Keeper. I knocked on the door to Mother’s chambers.

“Cicero? Are you in here?”

“Go away.” Cicero’s voice was muffled.

“I will not. You will open this door, Keeper, or I will do it for you.” There was no answer, so I knelt and began picking the lock. I threw open the door and walked in. Cicero was buried beneath a pile of blankets in a corner of the room. “Cicero!” I snapped, and he jumped up.

“Listener! You’re back!” He ran towards me, his arms outstretched. He threw his arms around me, and I cast a Lightning Cloak spell.

“No hugging. Not unless I give you permission.”

“Cicero missed the Listener. Why were you away for so long?” Cicero pouted, and I rolled my eyes at him.

“I was doing business.”

“But that’s what Speakers are for.” Cicero argued.

“Only some of it was Family business. The rest of it was my own.”

“What if something happens to you? What would Cicero do then?”

“You would continue to take care of Mother, so that she can select a new Listener from what Family we do have. But I am three and a half centuries old, Cicero. There are very few things that can get the better of me.”

“But –”

“But _nothing_ , Cicero. I understand that you do not wish me to come to harm. I wish the same thing. But I cannot and will not remain here with nothing to do but take up knitting, or some other hobby.” Cicero opened his mouth to speak, and I cast a modified Silence spell. “No. I will hear no more of it. And you cannot keep yourself locked in here all hours of the day. It is not healthy.” Cicero frowned and crossed his arms. “What if one of our siblings wished to come and speak to Mother? They cannot do so if you have the door locked.” His eyes widened and he shook his head. “They are Family. They are allowed to speak with her if they wish. I do not expect it, except for perhaps Babette and Festus, but it is allowed.”

“I forbid it! I refuse! Traitors, defilers, blasphemers! All of them!” Cicero snarled.

“What is the third tenet of the Dark Brotherhood, Keeper?” I asked quietly, and he swallowed audibly.

“ _Never disobey or refuse to carry out an order from a Dark Brotherhood superior. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis._ ”

“Ah, you _do_ know the tenets. I thought you might not, with how heartily you disagreed with my commands.”

“But the others –”

“Are like children, and know no better. I expected better from you, Keeper.” I curled my lip.

 _“Listener.”_ My head snapped towards the Night Mother’s sarcophagus. I held up a hand to silence Cicero.

“Mother.” Cicero’s eyes lit up and he jigged in place.

_“Be careful with this one, child. He is more fragile than he appears. I understand what you are doing, and I approve. I only ask that you be careful.”_

“I will, Mother.”

 _“I have a name for you.”_ I smiled. It had been many years since I had heard that particular phrase from her.

“Cicero, fetch me writing tools.” Cicero darted across the room and returned with parchment, ink and a quill. “Yes, Mother?”

_“Her name is Dura gra-Naybek. An Orc female, living in the city of Solitude.”_

“Thank you, Mother.” I smiled at the sarcophagus. I laughed aloud, smiling down at the name.

“Someone else with a contract, Listener?” Cicero asked, peering over my shoulder.

“Even better, Cicero. We will have a new sister.”

* * *

 While Cicero took immediately to the idea, Astrid felt differently about it.

“We know nothing about this woman. Outside of the fact that she’s an Orc. How can we trust her?”

“Any person on the street can commit a murder… but not all of them can get away with it. This woman has done both, or Mother would not have given me the name.” Astrid’s brows rose as she looked back down at the name.

“I have to admit, that’s rather impressive… especially for an Orc.”

“How do you normally induct a new member?” I asked, sitting on a chair.

“It’s not always the same. It usually depends on how we found out about them. How were you recruited?”

“I came to their attention when I was one hundred and thirty three years old. I had been living with a coven of vampires at the time, the ones who had turned me. My coven-mate and I were out hunting when our home was attacked. The rest of our coven was slaughtered by a group of mercenaries.” Astrid blanched.

“I take it things didn’t end well for the mercenaries.”

“You are correct. We returned, full of blood and energy and good cheer, to find the mercenaries drinking and laughing just outside the cave. We slew them all. My coven-mate was grievously injured, and did not survive the night. I was ready to end my own life when Lucien Lachance appeared.” Astrid let out a low whistle. “He extended me an invitation to join his Family. At first I refused, not wanting to replace those I had lost so quickly. He gave me a contract, told me to consider it. He gave me a Blade of Woe. It is in my home just east of Bruma, as a matter of fact. I was going to use it to kill myself. But then I thought of something – people do not contact the Dark Brotherhood for simple killings. This man must have done something to deserve death. I went to the Inn of Ill Omen and found the man. I sound-proofed the room with magick and woke him. He had attempted to rape a woman, and ended up killing her. And so I fulfilled Lucien’s request.”

“You had been a vampire for how long at that point, and you hadn’t been noticed by them before?”

“I had been a vampire for three-quarters of a century at that point. We slew bandits and the like, which is why I did not come to their attention earlier.”

“But those bandits and whatnot couldn’t have been your first kills.” Astrid protested.

“They were not. My first kills were in Morrowind, where the Morag Tong hold sway.” I informed her, and she nodded.

“Makes sense. So can I ask who your first was?” Astrid grinned.

“My first kill was the man who had the audacity to call himself my master, and me his property.” Astrid’s brows rose.

“Oh. And I thought mine was bad.” We fell into silence for a minute or two, then Astrid spoke. “Did the Night Mother tell you anything else about this woman?” She waved the parchment.

“Only her name and location. Babette and I are heading that way. I could look in on her while I am there, if you like.”

“Actually, that might be for the best. I haven’t known many Orcs, and I’d probably end up offending her by accident.” Astrid chuckled. “Here, take this with you.” She returned the parchment to me. “Just in case you forget her name.”

“Can I come meet her, too?” Babette asked, bouncing on her toes.

“I suppose it depends on whether or not it will conflict with carrying out your part of the Emperor’s contract.” I told the girl, rising to my feet. Babette pouted, folding her arms across her chest, and I laughed. “Should she decide to join us, you will meet her eventually.”

“I know.” Babette sighed. We bade Astrid farewell and left the Sanctuary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The armor that Ulfric and Galmar are wearing is the StormLord armor.  
> For those of you who might not have picked up on it, Lycoris made Wuunferth into her thrall.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this took so long... I'm not dead yet!

Babette and I made our way out of Falkreath Hold and into Whiterun, having agreed to leave the vampires at Half Moon Mill for Dura. Some things, it seemed, did not change – joining the Dark Brotherhood still required spilling blood in the Night Mother’s name. I slowed Shadowmere to a walk as we approached Rorikstead.

“I remember you!” I looked towards the source of the sound, finding a young girl. “You came through here just before the accidents happened.”

“Sissel.” The girl smiled when I remembered her name. “What accidents do you mean?”

“Britte and Papa died, but it’s okay. I’m living with Jouane now. I told you he was teaching me magick, remember? I told him what you told me that night, and he agrees.” Babette turned around on Shadowmere's back to face me, raising a brow. I ignored her.

“I am glad that you are doing well, even with such tragedy.” Sissel smiled broadly. “But once again, I cannot linger long.”

“Okay. Oh! Did you ever find your brother?” Sissel asked, rocking on her toes.

“I did indeed. He is at home, safe and sound. Thank you for your concern.”

“You’re welcome. Good-bye, and thank you for talking to me.” She smiled up at me once more before darting away. I smiled after her and nudged Shadowmere into motion. Once we were out of earshot of anyone in the village, Babette cackled.

“ _Accident_. Sure.”

“I am sure I do not know what you are talking about.”

* * *

Neither of us relished the thought of making our way through the swamps surrounding Morthal, and so decided to remain on the road. A group of bandits attempted to rob us, but Babette and I made short work of them. The encounter forcibly reminded me that I was, once again, lacking physical weaponry. My bow had been destroyed in Falskaar, and I had not retrieved my sword from Mirmulnir’s corpse. I split the bandit’s coin with Babette and left all but the most valuable of loot behind. As I understood,

Morthal had little more than an inn and a lumber mill, so we would be unable to sell much of it there.

“I have a plan, and I thought that I should discuss it with you afore we reach Morthal.” I told Babette.

“I’m listening.” The girl answered, looking back at me.

“I am thinking that you should pose as my adopted daughter – the orphanage, now that Grelod is slain, is once more allowing children to be adopted, so it will not seem odd that I have one such child with me. We can rent a room at the inn for the night, and slay the Orc whilst the others are sleeping.”   
“Sounds good to me.” Babette nodded. We passed the rest of our journey discussing spells, and learning which of us knew more than the other. In most cases, I was the one with the most knowledge, but Babette knew more about Skyrim itself than I. After all, she had spent far more time in the province than I had.

* * *

When we arrived in Morthal, I made sure to refer to Babette as my daughter, and she called me ‘Mama’ more than once.

“I would like to rent a room for the night for my daughter and I.” I told the innkeeper, placing an arm around Babette’s shoulders.

“It’s ten septims for a room. We can put a small cot in for the girl, if you’d like.” The woman offered.

“I will need to see the size of the bed first.” I demurred, giving the woman her coin. She nodded and led the way. It was one of the only rooms with a door, I saw. “Is the Orc here all hours of the day?” I asked the innkeeper quietly.

“Yes, he lives here. Oh, but you don’t need to worry! He’s harmless, wouldn’t hurt a fly.” She was quick to inform me.

“I hope that is the case.” I replied, drawing Babette close. We were attempting to present ourselves as defenseless travellers, an act that would have been impossible if I still had my weapons. I was no less enthused about losing them, however. Once Babette and I had our things in the room, we sat in the common room. I ordered us some food and drink, which gave us an excuse to loiter. Every time the Orc or anyone else drew near, I moved to shelter Babette from them. As intelligent as she was, it did not take long for her to figure out what I was doing. She would flinch away from them, drawing close to me. Late in the afternoon, Babette began to ‘yawn’, allowing us to withdraw from the common room. Once we were in the room I cast a modified Muffle spell, ensuring that no one outside the room would hear anything we said to one another. “I am glad that it did not take you long to see what I was doing.” I informed her.

“It wasn’t hard. If we play the innocent, harmless travellers, scared of anything that moves, no one will ever suspect us.”

“Quite right.” I agreed. “I must admit, this gambit is far easier to play when one is travelling with a child.”

“Some things are easier like this.” Babette gestured towards herself. “I haven’t come across anything yet that proved too difficult to handle.”

“I hope that remains the case.” The next few hours passed quickly enough. Every so often I cast Detect Life, and each time there were fewer people in the other room. Around what I would guess to be midnight, the innkeeper went to her bed downstairs. I rose to my feet, Babette following suit. With a flick of my wrist, both she and I were enveloped in a Muffle spell. “The innkeeper said that the Orc is here the whole day, which means he has a room here. We will find him, put him out of his misery, and return here to sleep.”

“Of course. If we disappear in the night, no matter how we acted during the day, we’re the first suspects.” Babette reasoned, and I smiled.

“If only all of my Dark Family was as intelligent as you are.” Babette flushed, and I mussed her hair. “Come along.”

* * *

Babette and I were woken in the morning by the innkeeper’s scream.

“I’d forgotten about this part.” Babette groaned.

“It must be dealt with.” I stated. She sighed and climbed out of bed just as someone began to pound on the door. “We are awake.”

“Mama, what’s wrong?” Babette asked, her voice wavering.

“I do not know, child. Stay behind me.” I climbed out of bed and opened the door. “What in Y'ffre’s name is going on here?” I demanded. The innkeeper was wringing her hands.

“Thank the Divines, you’re all right.” She let out a breath.

“What is going on?” I repeated.

“There… there was a murder.” She admitted. “But the guards are looking into it, there’s no need to panic.”

“Someone was murdered? Where? When?” I asked, widening my eyes and slightly opening my mouth.

“It’ll be fine. The guards will find out who did it, and everything will be okay. Are you and your girl hungry? I’ve got breakfast ready.” I looked over at Babette. I raised a brow, and she shrugged a shoulder.

“We will be out shortly.” I informed the innkeeper, who fluttered away. Babette and I packed our things and went into the common room, where breakfast had been laid out.

“Help yourselves.” The innkeeper smiled tremulously. “Take as much as you like.”

“You said that someone was murdered?” I asked.

“Like I said, you don’t need to worry. The guards will figure it out.”

“It should not have occurred in the first place.” I countered. “We are leaving. I will not stay in a place where my safety – where my _daughter’s_ safety – is not guaranteed.” I stepped behind Babette, ushering her out of the building.

* * *

“Have you thought on how you are going to do this?” I asked Babette. We were crossing the bridge that gave Dragon Bridge its name.

“It depends on what his schedule looks like.” She informed me. “The closest Stormcloak-controlled areas that would give me the bonus are Riften and Windhelm.”

“I would be unwelcome in Windhelm, and I do not know if that would be the best place for a murder at the moment regardless.” I informed her. Naturally, this piqued her curiosity, and I shared the story.

“Wow.” Babette blinked, looking up at me. “I kinda wish I’d been there, if only to see his face.” I smiled at her.

“I would not be of much help in that regard. I was too busy escaping to pay attention to Ulfric.”

“And you thralled his court mage? That could be handy.”

“Perhaps. None of that, however, will be of much use to you at the moment. Run along and fetch his schedule. I will wait here for you.” Babette nodded, sliding off of Shadowmere's back. She needed to use both hands, but in a moment she had cast Invisibility and was gone from my sight. I guided Shadowmere out of the road and waited. Within five minutes, she was on her way back. “If you wish to sneak up on someone, you would do well to cast Muffle so they do not hear you coming.” I informed her. I looked over at where I was reasonably sure she was standing.

“I always forget that.” She grumbled, coming back into view. I smirked and reached down, pulling her up into the saddle to sit in front of me.

“Have you any ideas yet?” I asked, nudging the mare into movement.

“It’s Middas today, right?” She asked.

“Indeed it is.” I confirmed, and she nodded.

“If we hurried, we could get to Markarth –”

“Not I.”

“How many cities are you unwelcome in?” She asked, turning around to glare at me.

“Just the two, I believe. I may be in some trouble in Whiterun, but I do not think I would be unwelcome.”

“We could wait around in Solitude until Morndas, or head to Riften for next Middas. What do you think?”

“After Vici’s death in Solitude, if the guards are competent, they will be on watch for such a thing to happen again. Riften would be our safest choice. I have been there a handful of times, but I have not drawn too much attention to myself. Correction; I have not drawn too much of the wrong kind of attention to myself.” Babette sighed.

“What did you do?”

“There was a vampire attack my first time there. I did not fight the creatures – I used them as a distraction, so I could slip into the orphanage unnoticed. However, I did heal one of the townsfolk there. He would have become a vampire if not for my actions.”

“So you’re saying they wouldn’t think anything bad of you.” Babette mused, nodding.

“I believe not. Also, Riften is home to the Thieves’ Guild. I do not think that they would mind hosting us should it prove necessary.”

“Astrid sent you there to get that amulet appraised, didn’t she? So it’s not like they’d just be taking our word for it.”   
“Correct.”

“All right. Off to Solitude, to find our new sister, and then to Riften.”

* * *

Solitude was the closest Skyrim had to Imperial architecture, or so they claimed. I saw none of Cyrodiil’s beauty in the harsh Nordic buildings of Solitude.

“I do not want to know what they think Cyrodiil looks like, if this is their attempt at copying her.” I murmured, looking around. Babette giggled up at me.   
“It’s nowhere close to it.” She agreed. “Even High Rock comes closer than this, but don’t tell anyone I told you that.”

“Of course not. They would not stand to be accused of _copying_ someone. How gauche.” I drawled, and Babette grinned. I led the way to the Winking Skeever – I shuddered at the name – and we stepped inside. The innkeeper perked up behind his counter as we entered.   
“Welcome! Come on in! How can I help you?”

“A room for the night, and information.” I replied. The standard rate across Skyrim was ten septims a night at every inn, according to Babette. With this in mind, I laid thirty out on the counter. “I am looking for an Orc woman, Dura gra-Naybek. I do not know if she lives in or around Solitude, but I know that she spends time in the area.”

“I know her. She comes here quite often. She might even be here tonight, actually.” The innkeeper eyed the coins on the counter before looking up at me. “You might want to hire someone else if you’re looking for a bodyguard. There’s a rumour going around that she killed someone.”

“That is what bodyguards are for, are they not?” I pushed the pile of coins towards him. It was simpler to let him believe his own tale rather than supply one for him. “Which room is ours?”

* * *

In the privacy of our room, behind a Muffle spell, I described Riften in as much detail as I could remember to Babette.

“I would recommend against using the canal that runs through the city for anything, as simple as it may be.” I informed her. “The letter you are planting on the body would become illegible, and I am certain that the canal is the city’s supply of drinking water.”

“Drowning makes too much noise anyway.” Babette agreed, waving a hand. “I do know a Frenzy spell. Do you think that might work?”

“I personally dislike relying on such a spell for anything other than covering my escape. There is no guarantee that your target will actually die before the spell wears off. Remember, all it does is create a desire to fight, not remove all fighting skills they have.” I shrugged a shoulder. “If all else fails, you could simply slit his throat while he sleeps. Do not forget the Muffle spell this time.”

“Yes, mother.” Babette rolled her eyes, smiling as she did.

* * *

Babette remained in our room as I carried out a few errands. With them complete, I returned to the inn to wait for Dura to arrive. The whole room quieted when she entered the inn. As she walked towards the bar, I studied her. Her blue-grey skin told me that she was not a pure Orc; there was human in her ancestry somewhere. She was small, for an Orc, with the sides of her head shaved. Her remaining hair was tied back into a tail. When she turned from the bar with a drink in hand, I saw that she had bright blue eyes and small tusks. When she walked past me, I tied a small amount of magick onto her boots. The Orc joined a table of men who were playing cards, and they swiftly dealt her in. Confident that she would be at the inn for some time, I went upstairs to speak with Babette.

“She is here. I Traced her, so I will be able to find her if she leaves without me seeing.” I explained, and the girl nodded.

“Good. You haven’t spoken to her yet?”

“Of course not. I will follow her to her home, or to wherever she sleeps. I will speak to her there.”

“How long has it been since you’ve brought someone new into the Family?” Babette asked, leaning her elbows on her knees and putting her chin on her fists.

“Personally? It has been over two hundred years. The Speakers would not let the Listener herself do something so ordinary. But it has been forty years since Mother has given me a name not tied to a contract.” Babette’s eyes widened and she let out a low whistle. “Indeed. 'Tis why I thought I was the only one left.”

“So is that what you’ve been doing since the Brotherhood fell in Cyrodiil? Chasing contracts around the Empire?”

“Essentially, yes. Much of what I told you when I first came to the Sanctuary is true. I spent some time in Hammerfell, aiding them against the Thalmor there. There were some contracts I was able to fulfill whilst I was there. There are others that I was never able to fulfill, seeing as I was unable to leave for long periods of time. The Redguards scarcely trusted me at all, they would have trusted me even less if I were to abandon them in the night.”

“So why did you choose Skyrim?” Babette asked.

“Partly because of the civil war. When I first arrived I had thought to join the Stormcloaks. However, after spending time in Markarth, I decided against that. I also came because there were multiple contracts here. Aventus Aretino, in Windhelm; and Madanach ap Caradach, in Markarth.”

“Madanach… as in the King of Rags?”

“Yes. I am not surprised that you did not hear of his pleas for a contract. Even within the prison he kept the ritual quiet.”

“So that’s why you’re not welcome in Markarth.” Babette surmised, and I shrugged.

“I do not know if I would be recognized. I will not risk it, not without a change of armor at the very least.” We conversed for an hour or so until there was a _shift_ from below, and I tilted my head. ‘Listening’ was not, perhaps, the correct word, but it was the most accurate word for what I was doing. My magicka ‘whispered’ to me, telling me that Dura was leaving the inn.

“She’s on the move?” Babette asked.

“I will give her some time and then I will leave from here.” I stepped towards the window, looking down into the street. Dura was making her way through the city, heading to the residential area. “I do not know how long I will be. If I am not back by morning, something will have gone wrong. If that is the case, then do not wait for me. Take Shadowmere and make your way to Riften.”

“If you say so.” Babette pouted, folding her arms across her chest. I ignored her and opened the window. I did not see anyone in the street, but I ducked away and cast Invisibility before climbing out onto the roof. I followed the ‘whisper’ of magicka through the city, which led me to a small house. The door was locked and the lights within were not lit. I glanced up and down the street and began to pick the lock. It was a very simple lock, and did not take much time to open. Using Detect Life, I was able to determine that Dura was the only resident. I closed all the windows and shutters, then walked up the stairs. I drew back the magicka tied to the other woman and then listened carefully. From the pattern of her breathing she appeared to be asleep, but her heartbeat told me otherwise.

“I know you are awake. Sit up, and we shall talk.” I sat on a table close to the bedroom. Not close enough for her to run out and grab hold of me, but close enough that she could see and hear me from the bedroom. I heard movement from the bedroom and smiled to myself.

“Who in Oblivion are you, and what are you doing in my house?” She growled, appearing in the doorway.

“My name is Lycoris, and I am here to extend an invitation.”

“An invitation that you had to break into my house to deliver?”

“Yes. After all, it is not every day one is invited into the ranks of the Dark Brotherhood.” She froze, and my smile grew. “Did you think your murder went unnoticed? Perhaps by the men and women of Solitude, but not by the Night Mother. She has taken notice of you, Dura gra-Naybek, and has sent me to speak with you.”

“The guards wouldn’t do anything about it!” Dura snapped. “I had to do something!”

“I care not what your reasons were.” I waved a dismissive hand. “You committed a murder, and no fingers were pointed at you for it. That is what we need in our Family.”

“I don’t have to do anything.” She shot back. “I could go back to bed and pretend that this was just a nightmare.”

“You could try.” I conceded. “But you will never be able to forget how you are feeling at this moment, child. The fear. You do not know what will happen, but I shall tell you. Should you choose to pretend this never happened, I shall leave and never return. This opportunity will never come again. Or…” I drew the only weapon I carried from its sheathe and held it in my hand, the moonlight glinting off the blade. I had crafted a Blade of Woe, purely with this in mind. “You can take this blade. South of the village of Falkreath lies Half-Moon mill. A man and a woman live there, vampires both. Take this blade and kill them. I will know, and will meet you in Falkreath, at the Dead Man’s Drink.”

“What’s to stop me from killing you?” Dura demanded, and I laughed.

“I have been an assassin for more than two hundred years, child. If you wish to try your luck, I shall not stop you. But you would not survive the attempt.” My voice hardened towards the end, and Dura took a step back. With a flick of a finger and a dab of Alteration magick, the latch on the window behind me was open. “I hope to see you in Falkreath.” I stabbed the blade into the table and leaned back, falling out the window. I grabbed the ledge beneath the window and used it to right myself. Once my feet were beneath me, I released the ledge and cast Invisibility as I fell to the ground. Dura had rushed towards the window, and was looking for me. I grinned to myself as I made my way to the inn.

* * *

Babette seemed to be torn between awe and dismay at my handling of Dura’s invitation.

“You didn’t have to intimidate her.” She frowned up at me.

“Nor could I let her think she could simply kill me and be done with it.” I countered.

“I suppose.” Babette huffed. “What’s she doing?” The Trace I had left in the Blade of Woe was much larger than I had placed on Dura’s boots, which enabled me to sense it from greater distances.

“I do not think she has left Solitude yet.” I informed her, and she hunched over her folded arms. Even without seeing her face, I knew she was wearing a pout. “It has been less than a day. Give her time. T’was almost a week afore I made my first contracted kill after meeting Lucien. At least _I_ did not wake the girl from her slumber. Lucien certainly had a flair for the dramatic.”

“Tell me about him?” Babette leaned on my chest to look up at me.

“He was an Imperial, and handsome enough. Lucien came to me the day after the events I spoke of at the Sanctuary. I had fallen asleep and something – knowing what I do now, I suspect it was magick of some kind – told me I needed to wake up. The very first thing Lucien said to me was, ‘you sleep rather soundly for a murderer.’” Babette snickered. “He did! He called me a ‘harvester of souls’, and said that my ‘deathcraft’ pleased the Night Mother. He was a very dedicated Speaker.” I fell into silence for some time. “Vicente Valtieri was one of the oldest vampires I had ever met.” I told Babette all about the Family I had held dear, the Family that I had slain. “And Gogron – I still do not know how any of the others ate the food that man prepared. There was more than one night that I could not stay in the Sanctuary because of the smell. I do not know how Teinaava and Ocheeva could stand it. I suspect that they and Vicente must not have _had_ a sense of smell any longer.” Babette was laughing so hard she was crying, which made me smile. It had been a very long time since I had spoken about the people who had lived within the Cheydinhal Sanctuary.

“So everyone knows that the Champion started in the Imperial Prison, but how did you end up there?” She asked, and I stiffened. “Come on, did you really think that Astrid wasn’t going to gossip about it?”

“I had hoped for as much.” I replied.

“Are you gonna tell me?” She pressed, and I sighed.

“I was not at fault. There was a theft, and the suspect was a female Bosmer. I was the closest one at hand. They refused to believe that it was not me, and tossed me into the prison and forgot about me. I was imprisoned for a week before Uriel Septim came to my cell.” I informed her, and she flinched. She knew as well as I did that going for too long without blood could damage a vampire’s mental faculties. “It was good timing. Had the Mythic Dawn taken but a handful more days, I would likely be as mad as poor Cicero, if not worse.”

“Had you been the Listener for very long at that point?”

“Three days afore I was thrown into the prison.” I had only Arquen back at Cheydinhal Sanctuary, who had taken it upon herself to ‘respectfully’ prohibit me from leaving the city. Of course with such a rule in place, I was bound and determined to break it. I returned on a weekly basis to tell the woman of any new contracts I received. Only once did she attempt to force me to remain. That lead to a brawl that destroyed almost everything within the Sanctuary; a brawl that she lost. Afterwards, she no longer tried to impose her will on me. “I was one hundred and fifty years old.” A ‘whisper’ of magicka informed me that Dura was leaving Solitude, and I relayed this to Babette.

“It’s about time.” She groused.

* * *

With neither of us requiring to stop and rest through the night, we reached Riften on Sundas.  This gave us three days to plan for Babette’s contract.

“I will not help you slay the man,” I reminded Babette, “but I will do whatever I can to ensure your safety.”

“I was thinking of casting Frenzy on him after all. Broad daylight, near the market. If he attacks me there, there’s more than enough guards around to take care of him.”

“You will have to slip the letter into a pocket afore killing him.” I pointed out.

“That shouldn’t be too difficult. Could you just come to the market with me, to help my image? Like at Morthal?”

“That I can do. My advice would be to drop the letter in his pocket and cast the spell at the same time. You would not have to worry about someone walking into the spell if you cast it that close to him.”

“If I’m doing it like that, I may as well make a potion.” Babette pointed out.

“Only if you have the ingredients with you, or the coin to purchase far more ingredients than you require. You would also need to craft it in the alchemist’s store.” I countered.

“Good point.” Babette folded her arms across her chest, frowning.

“There is nothing wrong with good planning.” I told her.

“I know, but I also know that there are a million things that could go wrong.”

“That is why a simple plan is best. The spell will suffice. After all, the use of a potion would leave evidence.”

“Also true.” Babette sighed and leaned back in her too-large chair.

* * *

We spent our time wandering through Riften, and I mentioned more than once that I was considering purchasing a home in the city. In Cyrodiil I had a home in or near almost every city, and it was something that had served the Brotherhood well. With so many safe houses spread across the province, there had always been somewhere safe to stay. I asked around, discreetly, and learned that the only home available was over twelve thousand septims, once furnished. However, its back entrance led outside the city walls. A few more questions, and I discovered that I would only be able to purchase said home if I was a Thane. I informed Babette of this, and she explained further.

“A Thane is generally someone who’s done good things in the community. Someone for people to look up to.” I sat back in the chair, tapping a finger against my lips.

“Do you think that becoming a Thane and buying this house would be worthwhile? I would make it a safe house for our siblings.” Her eyes widened.

“You mean it?”

“Of course I do. I had many such houses in Cyrodiil.” Babette grinned up at me.

“If that’s what you want to do, I’m all for it. Generally, to become a Thane, you start by solving a problem in the Hold. Here in Riften, there’s an issue with Skooma. What you need to do is find someone who reeks of it and find out where they’re getting it from. Deal with them and tell the Jarl, and you’re basically in. I can’t tell you about other Holds – you’ll have to ask the others.”

“Thank you. I shall head out now. I shall be back before tomorrow’s main event, fear not.”

* * *

The most difficult part of becoming a Thane in Riften was helping the townsfolk with their errands. Finding the fire salts for the smith would be difficult, even with the alchemist’s shop down the street. The Dunmer woman with her wraith teeth would also be time consuming. However, it was simple to assist Svana Far-Shield, and healing Shadr on my first visit had helped. A handful of gold given to beggars and a simple delivery made, I returned to Jarl Laila Law-Giver for my reward. I only had enough coin to purchase the house and install a bedroom at the moment, but I could upgrade the house further later. This also meant that Babette and I no longer needed to room at the inn, and had more privacy.

* * *

At long last, Gaius Maro entered Riften. Babette and I were both eager to be done with the contract and return to the Sanctuary. We waited in the market area for Maro to make his appearance.

“Mama, can I go look at the jewelry?” She asked, tugging on my sleeve. I looked around quickly, seeing an Imperial man I did not recognize. I raised a brow at Babette in a silent question and she nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Yes, but do not wander far.” I cautioned her. She smiled and winked before turning away.

“She’s such a well-mannered girl.” The Dunmer man running the stall commented.

“I do not know what I would do if something happened to her.” I replied, still watching Babette. “There is nothing more important to me than my Family.” I purchased a few alchemical ingredients from him and moved to the next stall, keeping an eye on Babette. She slipped the letter into Maro’s pocket and made her way back to me.

“Some of the children asked me to play tag with them. I’m going to accept, and then run into him by ‘accident’, casting the spell at the same time.” She told me quietly. I smiled broadly.

“Of course, dear. Have fun with your friends.” I reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “Be careful.” I added quietly. She ran over to one of the other children and tapped his shoulder.

“You’re it!” I sat down on one of the benches along the railing above the canal, watching Babette’s work. There was laughter and squealing as the four of them played, and finally Babette was tagged ‘it’. She was careful, herding the three children closer to her target. A young boy ran past Maro, and Babette took the opportunity to strike. Her palm glowed red, but no one not watching for it would have seen it. She ran head long into Maro, dragging her hand down his arm. “Sorry!” She called over her shoulder, chasing the boy down. Her spell took effect immediately, and Maro drew his blade.

“Come back here!” He shouted, tearing after her. The children’s squeals turned into screams as the man gave chase.

“What are you doing?” I rose from the bench and made my way through the crowd, drawing attention. “That is my daughter!” I called up spells in each hand and threw an Ice Spike in his direction. I purposely missed, the spell landing near his feet. A handful of guards ran over to Maro, putting themselves between him, the children and Babette.

“Stand down!” One of them ordered, and Maro growled in response, raising his blade above his head. One of the guards caught the blow on his shield, and another swung his blade at Maro’s side. A bitter smile twisted my lips as the guards blade went through the Penitus Oculatus armour like a knife through butter. Maro fought on, ignoring the wound. I shook my head as the guards took turns fighting him – one would deflect Maro’s blows while another four boxed him in, preventing his escape. It took another three minutes for Gaius Maro to die, and only with a lucky hit from one of the guards that came close to removing his head. The body had scarcely hit the ground afore I ran past the guards.

“Babette? Babette, where are you?” I called out, looking around. I followed the sound of crying children and found her. “Y'ffre’s bones, Babette. Are you injured?” Babette, still playing the part of a child, launched herself into my arms, tears streaming down her cheeks.

* * *

'Twas many hours afore Babette and I were allowed to leave Mistveil Keep. The Jarl had been very concerned about what had taken place in the market, and had everyone who had been remotely involved questioned. I and the parents of the three children were questioned by Jarl Laila personally. “My Thane, I apologize.” Laila bowed her head. “I knew that the man was coming here, but I didn’t think that he would just… _snap_ like that, especially at your daughter.”

“Who was he? I cannot say that I am entirely familiar with the design on his armour.”

“His name was Gaius Maro. He was… well, he was supposed to be Penitus Oculatus, the Emperor’s personal bodyguards.”

“Supposed to be?” I pressed. I knew the answers, of course, but an angry and frightened mother would be demanding answers for what had occurred.

“Maro’s body was taken to the Hall of the Dead and prepared for burial. Priestess Alessandra found a rather disturbing letter in one of his pockets.” Laila looked around and I stepped closer. “He was involved in a plot to assassinate the Emperor!”

“T’would seem that they are as tired of his rule as the Stormcloaks.” I commented, and Jarl Laila nodded sagely.

“Indeed. But that doesn’t make what he did right. He had no reason to go after your daughter, and for that I apologize. Is there anything that I can do to make this right?”

“It is not your fault, my lady, and so there are no reparations that you can make.” I informed her. She let out a breath and leaned back in her throne. “However, I do not think that I can remain here with my daughter. The pair of us will be leaving in the morn. I am not saying that I will never return,” I continued as she opened her mouth, “but neither of us feel safe here any longer.”

“I understand.” Laila nodded. “You will always be welcome in Riften, and if there’s ever anything I can do for you, just tell me, and it will be done.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

“You overpowered that Frenzy spell.” I informed Babette.

“I know.” She groaned, putting her head in her hands.

“Jarl Laila was very effusive in her apologies. She was also very surprised by the contents of a certain letter that was discovered on his person.” Babette turned around on Shadowmere's back to face me. “I suspect that the news will reach Solitude afore we reach the Sanctuary.” Her face split into a wide grin.

* * *

Babette and I fed on the way back to Falkreath hold, and then parted ways at Half-Moon mill. She was returning to the Sanctuary to report in to Astrid, and I was due at the Dead Man’s Drink. There were a handful of people at the inn, including Dura. When she noticed me, she stiffened in her seat but did not approach me. I walked past her and spoke to Valga, the inn’s proprietor.

“Do you have any letters for Lycoris?” I asked, leaning on the bar.

“I think so. Let me check.” She reached under the counter and looked through a stack of letters. “No… not this one… nope… nope… ah! Here it is. Just the one, sorry.” She slid the envelope toward me. I tucked it into a pocket and left a stack of septims for her in exchange. The letter was most likely from Wuunferth, and so it could wait a few more minutes. I walked away from the innkeeper and sat down across from Dura.

“You completed your first contract, Dura. Well done.” I smiled at her.

“I don’t know why.” She grunted, her eyes darting around the room. “I’ve been waiting here for what feels like ages.”

“That is what happens when we are… short-staffed.” I stated. The Orc snorted.

“So what happens now?”

“Now we go home.” I rose from the table, leaving her to either catch up or be left behind. She muttered a curse as she rose from the bench. I looked her over once we stepped outside and saw that she wore her Blade of Woe openly, hanging from her belt. I smiled to myself, then whistled for Shadowmere. Dura frowned as the horse approached.

“I don’t have a horse.” She informed me.

“Then we shall walk. T’will be no harm, and you must have questions.”

“Why me?” She asked immediately, and I narrowed my eyes at her.

“If one stopped and thought about where one was standing, one might understand why another would be unwilling to answer questions at the moment.” She flushed, her cheeks darkening to blue. I was silent until we were well out of the village, and remained silent for a few minutes more.

“Because the Night Mother sees all.”

* * *

She seemed to have endless amounts of questions. No matter how many I answered, she always had at least two more. Only the door’s whispered question silenced hers, and only for a few moments.

“If you require more information than I have given you, seek out Festus Krex or Babette. Either of them will know most, if not all, of the answers you desire.” I informed her once we were inside. “Arnbjorn should be able to give you armor, and if he cannot, he will know where you can find it. Off with you.” I waved a hand towards the hallway that led further into the Sanctuary. Dura bowed her head to me and darted down the stairs. Once she was no longer in earshot, I slumped into the chair beside Astrid’s room. I knew the woman was within; I had heard her heartbeat. “I do not know how you stand acquiring new recruits.” I told her, rubbing my forehead. She chuckled.

“Probably because I put the fear of the Void into them when I recruit.” Astrid replied. I acknowledged her point with a gesture.

“Is there anything I should be made aware of?”

“Cicero seems to be following the orders you left for him. He has a tendency to hover close by, and not let anyone near the Night Mother’s sarcophagus, but he’s been letting anyone who wants in, in. Word of Maro’s ‘mental breakdown’ has made it from one side of the province to another. Nazir left three days ago to hunt down the Gourmet, and as soon as he returns, Veezara will head to Solitude.” I nodded along as the woman spoke, absorbing the information.

“Good. I purchased a house in Riften; here is a key. I would like to have at least one other copy made.”

“Why are you bringing this to me?” She asked, raising a brow.

“We now have a safe house in the Rift.” I informed her. “We cannot expect the Thieves’ Guild to provide shelter if a contract should go wrong. I will expand our network further at the first opportunity.”

“A… safe house? You’re just… giving it to us?”

“In a manner of speaking.” I sat up in the chair. “I may use it at one point or another, but it is unlikely that I will invite guests. The Housecarl will not be an issue, she is my Thrall.” I reached across the desk for a quill and parchment and began to write. “If someone enters and does not tell her this phrase, she will attack them. If they give her the correct phrase, she will stand down.” Astrid raised her brows.

“You’ve put a lot of effort into this.”

“After the Bellamont debacle, I was accused more than once of ‘coddling’ and ‘handholding’. I will _not_ stand by and allow _incompetency_ and _idiocy_ tear down my Brotherhood again.” The quill snapped in my hand, spraying me with ink. I sighed and tossed the broken implement atop the parchment.

“I can’t say that I blame you for that view.” Astrid spoke quietly. “What’s the phrase?”

 _“Nemo me impune lacessit.”_ I looked over at Astrid. “No one attacks me with impunity.”


End file.
